


Mind Games

by elliemars



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliemars/pseuds/elliemars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seifer and Zell have managed to stay pretty well away from each other in the years since the war. When unfortunate circumstances (read: a scheming heiress and Quistis' meddlesome nature) shove them together again, more things flare than just tempers. Seifer/Zell and some other minor side pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aaahhh... finally it's time I put this fic up here. I've been posting this story on LJ for about... six and a half years now (omg) and on FF.net for somewhat less than that. I was putting off posting it here because I wanted to make some revisions to the early chapters, which I have now done, tada! I'm going through slowly and editing things, fixing some of my more questionable SPaG choices, and trying to make the fic as a whole a little more cohesive. Well, here it is, enjoy! I'll be posting (all 26!) chapters periodically through this next week.

The boisterous sounds of the party he had just escaped from were fading in Seifer’s ears as he wandered unsteadily down the corridor away from the Quad, ambling along in the swaying, faltering manner of one who is sauced out of their mind - which, at that moment, Seifer was. He had stayed at the graduation banquet just long enough to get shit-faced, totter across the stage, and make a hasty exit out the back door before Squall or any of his harebrained lackeys could figure out he was MIA. Leonhart had been particularly crotchety this year concerning the matter of Seifer’s attending the banquet; no one wanted to see him there, of course, but it was tradition for graduate SeeDs to attend the commencement of the new class, and Seifer, therefore, had done so for as long as was obligatory, which, in his own opinion, was far longer than his presence was needed. As it was, the continual whispers and stares that accompanied him everywhere he went within the Garden - which were, of course, not a new occurrence, but no less an annoying one - were made no more bearable by the stiff drink he had managed to acquisition within moments of entering the banquet hall, and he had made his flight from the party not even two hours after it began, which was quite long enough a time for him to get adequately tanked.

He reeled around a corner and, looking blearily around at the grey-washed walls of the dormitories, ventured off into the nearest corridor, his sense of direction slightly impaired by the way the floor seemed to be spinning out from underneath him. He couldn’t seem to remember where it was he wanted to go, although finding a bed to collapse in seemed like a splendid idea, given that anything involving any more movement than it took to clutch his head in pain and curl up into the fetal position was going to be out of the question in not too long. Seifer had never been one to tolerate hard liquor well, a weakness that he was fairly able to keep under wraps for the most part, as he rarely drank at all. It wasn’t the whispering, or the sneers, or the general dislike that the majority of the population of the Garden seemed to harbor for him that made him want to get shit-faced drunk this particular night; those things were all familiar after having endured them for nigh on three years now, and as irksome as having to deal with all that on a daily basis was for Seifer, it wasn’t anything that troubled him overmuch. No, this particular bout of antisociality was brought on by a certain stubborn headmaster and his inability to treat Seifer like a normal SeeD, which is really all the blond wanted at this point; instead, he, Squall, spent most of his time (Seifer was convinced) creating stupid, pointless rules and requirements that applied to Seifer only and whose sole purpose was to irritate the fuck out of him. Therefore, Seifer considered it his duty to get absolutely wasted at the most important event of the year just because he knew how much it would piss everyone’s beloved commander off. Petty? Seifer didn’t know the meaning of the word.

He tumbled into a closed door, losing his train of thought. A bed, that’s right; he was looking for a bed. Not necessarily his own bed - any flat, relatively comfortable surface would do provided he not be disturbed for the next twelve hours or so until his hangover became bearable. He was beginning to feel it now; the pressure that squeezed like a fist around his eyes as he attempted to focus on a stationary object (which happened to be a potted plant, not that Seifer could distinguish anything more than its relative shape and color through the cloud of drunkenness he was wandering around in,) the way his stomach heaved with each lurching step he took forward. He prayed in his mind that anyone who wasn’t at the banquet would be tucked safely in their beds by now; he couldn’t bear thinking what would become of his reputation if he were seen hobbling drunkenly around the hallways like the idiot that he was. Although, in truth, there wasn’t much damage that could really be done - he was already held in the lowest regard by 99.9% of the Garden’s student population, and the remainder of them - Squall and the group of idiots he called friends - only managed to put up with him to prove to themselves that they weren’t so petty as to cast off someone they used to call family just because he’d made one little mistake and tried to help a schizophrenic megalomaniac of a sorceress take over the world. And after all that he’d been through, Seifer reasoned to himself, didn’t he deserve the occasional bout of total inebriation?

He fell backwards against the door he had moments ago crashed into, slumping down to the floor. He slammed his fist against the wall as a spark of anger flared inside him momentarily. What the fuck was even the point of staying here? He had returned to Garden a few months after the end of the war simply because he had had nowhere else to go, and Squall had accepted him back under Cid’s creed that no one seeking education be turned away, but no one pretended that he belonged here. He had studied and kept his head down, keeping the attitude to a minimum mainly because no one paid him any attention anymore and trying to rile anybody up usually only ended up with Squall threatening to chuck him out if he caused any trouble. Chicken-wuss was the only target worth aiming at lately - he could always be counted on to want to start something - but his feathers were so easy to ruffle that it was hardly a challenge.

A wave of nausea suddenly hit Seifer like a sledgehammer in the gut, and he pulled himself to his feet as he struggled not to lose his lunch right there in the hallway. That third - was it three or four? - martini had probably not been the best idea. Not after those first couple gin and tonics, at least. Seifer couldn’t even remember how much liquor he’d downed before deciding to bunk it out of that lame-ass party, but he had a feeling if he didn’t find somewhere to get horizontal soon, it was all going to be coming back to revisit him. He turned to the door behind him and mashed buttons on the keypad, but he couldn’t seem to correctly input his code, although he knew it by heart even when trashed - it was the same as Quistis’ birthday; he’d chosen it because he knew no one would ever suspect him of using a friend’s birthday as his passcode and because it was the only one he could ever remember, mostly due to the fact that the instructor advertised it extensively to him for weeks preceding the date every year as though she thought he cared. Unless her aim was merely to make sure he remembered it, in which case she had quite succeeded. His fingers fumbled to jab at the correct numbers, but the small blinking light on the keypad continued to wink red at him, denying him access to his room. Frustrated, he pounded a fist against the door - and, to his complete surprise, it suddenly and inexplicably slid open, sending Seifer, now without a surface to support himself against, careening back to the floor.

“Who the fuck is banging around out here?” A person appeared in the doorway, rubbing their eyes sleepily. That didn’t seem quite right. Seifer didn’t have a roommate - he was a SeeD, after all, and therefore had been in a single dorm for quite some time, not that he’d had a roommate before then when he was just a cadet, either; other students had always been hard put to tolerate him, and as a result he had been alone in a double dorm before he graduated, and even before then as a cadet. He peered up at the person standing before him, staring down at him, as if trying to figure out why in the hell he was laying sprawled across the hallway outside their room.

Well, speak of the devil. “Dincht,” Seifer mumbled grumpily, trying to haul himself swiftly and gracefully to his feet so that he could beat a quick retreat before Zell realized he was drunk out of his mind. He pushed himself up, tripping on the hem of the grey trenchcoat he wore faithfully at all times, and went hurtling forward through the doorway - or, he would have if Zell hadn’t been standing in the line of fire and broken his fall. _Oh, way to not be obviously drunk_ , Seifer, he thought blearily to himself as he lay on top of the other man, who was clearly too stunned and confused to make haste in shoving him away - _oops, spoke too soon,_ he thought as Zell pushed him roughly off, leaping away from the gunblader in shock. Seifer merely rolled over lethargically, staring up at the ceiling and making no effort to move further. Zell gaped down at him, half-asleep and half pissed as hell, from what the other man could make out of his face in the dark.

“Fuck are you doin’ here, Almasy?” he growled, nudging the prone body on the floor with his bare foot. Seifer grunted.

“Was just leaving, as it so happens,” he slurred, but still didn’t stir. Zell waited for a few moments, and then kicked him again, although with a good deal more force than before.

“You drunk, Seifer?”

Seifer sat up quickly, feeling rather offended by the accusation. “Never been drunk a day in my life, chicken-wuss,” he declared loudly, before a swell of queasiness threatened to suddenly overthrow him, and he leapt to his feet, dashing for the nearest door inside Zell’s dorm, which, luckily, happened to be the toilet. He heard Zell’s groan of displeasure as he lost his lunch - which had been that of the liquid sort anyway - but he couldn’t bring himself to care much if he annoyed the martial artist; it wasn’t as if they were friends or anything. In fact, considering how much Zell had irritated the fuck out of him for years, ralphing all over his (scrupulously neat and clean, Seifer noticed) bathroom seemed like a very tame revenge.

“For fuck’s sake,” Zell griped under his breath, standing in the doorway to the bathroom and mercilessly flipping the light on. Seifer shouted out loudly, feebly raising one arm to shield his eyes from the brightness.

“The fuck did you do that for, asshole?!”

“You wanna peel yourself off my toilet and get the fuck out of here?” Zell asked coldly, folding his arms over his chest as he glared down at the drunken blond. He stretched out a leg and prodded his unwelcome guest with a toe; Seifer, in response, merely released his hold on the toilet and slumped down to the floor. Zell went to prod him again, but thought better of it; he didn’t particularly feel like spending the morning cleaning up Seifer’s vomit if he upchucked all over the place. He grabbed the other man by the sleeve of his coat and dragged him a few feet across the floor before giving up.

“Damnit, Almasy, I was sleeping. Would you get the fuck out of my dorm?” he snarled, sweeping sleep-mussed hair out of his eyes as he squinted down at the drunkard on the floor.

“No, I don’t think I shall, thanks,” Seifer muttered in reply, groaning quietly as he clutched his head, which was beginning to throb terribly. Truthfully, he didn’t feel as though he could move even if he wanted to, although he wasn’t going to admit that to Zell of all people. He opted, instead, for his usual method of runabout - being an asshole. “Now shut that fucking light off before I slice your head off.”

“Get the hell out of here, Almasy!” Zell yelled. Christ, the chicken was a cranky boy when he was woken early, Seifer thought to himself with a little smirk. He cracked open one eye to glare up at the martial artist, trying to instill death in his stare, but as he was still too impaired to even be sure what he was focusing on was indeed Zell, he couldn’t be entirely certain his implied threat went through. He decided on adding a verbal acknowledgment to his unspoken warning.

“You yell like that again, chicken-wuss, and I’ll carve you a new goddamn mouth to yell with. Turn off that light and go back to sleep and I’ll be gone in the fucking morning.”

“So, what, I’m s’posed to let you fucking sleep on the bathroom floor?”

“If you would be so kind.”

Zell was speechless, staring, mouth agape, at Seifer, who now seemed to be comatose on the cold bathroom floor. Hesitantly, the martial artist nudged him again with his foot. No response. Seifer seemed to be well and truly zonked out, his mouth hanging open as he snored softly; he looked more like a boy than the twenty-two year old, arrogant, cold-hearted mercenary he was supposed to be. Zell sighed, grumbling noncommittally to himself under his breath as he flipped the lights off and shut the bathroom door, leaving Seifer to snooze on the tile inside. He didn’t have it in him to be angry at someone who wasn’t even conscious enough to realize it, and he was hardly awake enough to pursue an argument with an obviously incoherent enemy. With another heavy sigh, he stumbled his way through the dark room back to his bed in the corner, throwing himself onto the pile of soft, comfy blankets he’d been loathe to abandon when Seifer had come pounding on his door.

 _I hope he wakes up with a damn migraine in the morning,_ Zell thought vindictively to himself as he snuggled down into the bed, trying to fall back to sleep and not to think about the idiot currently laying on his bathroom floor, _it would serve the drunk bastard right._

 

Seifer awoke with a pounding in his ears. Upon scrutiny, it seemed to be the sound of his brain trying to escape his skull, and he clutched his head in pain. He was hot, his back and shoulders were aching almost as much as the throbbing in his head, and his mouth seemed to be filled with cotton. He realized quite suddenly that he had no idea where he was, and he sat up, instantly regretting the hurried movement as every organ in his body seemed to lurch upward. He groaned, focusing on what he did know, which was upsettingly little. He was uncomfortable in every sense of the word, and that situation had to be remedied before any further thinking could be done.

He rose slowly to his feet and felt around in the darkness, groping along what seemed to be a countertop and then a wall until he found a light switch. He flipped it on, ignoring the burst of pain that erupted behind his eyes as if a small sun had suddenly alighted in the room rather than a fairly-dim seventy watt bulb. He was in a bathroom. It wasn’t his own; it was noticeably larger in size and a great deal tidier. Sleeping on the floor explained why his back felt like a grendel had stomped on it, and being drunk - or rather, he was just heading into what he could already predict was going to be a monster hangover - explained why he felt like five kinds of shit. And also, he supposed, why he had been sleeping on someone’s bathroom floor. He slid open the door and stumbled out into the dark bedroom beyond, his head still spinning with the dregs of his drunkenness.

The room was dim, only the faintest glow of the coming sunrise peeking over the horizon and filtering through the gauzy curtains on the window. The darkness was a welcome relief to the pulsing pain behind his eyes, and he took a few pitchy steps forward, shrugging off the trenchcoat he’d only just realized he was still wearing and giving a small shiver as the cool air of the room hit his damp skin. He rubbed the back of his aching neck, peering around in order to try and figure out whose room he was in. Although he couldn’t distinguish much through the murkiness, it didn’t seem to be anyone’s that he knew - not that he’d been in a great many other students’ dorm rooms, being enormously disliked by the rest of the population as he was.

Seifer moved slowly across the room, reaching out his hands like a blind man to feel for any obstacles, and was a little proud of himself that he didn’t trip over anything, before realizing that that was because there was nothing on the floor for him to trip over. His knees hit something soft and bouncy and his legs buckled as he went tumbling gracelessly to the floor. _A bed,_ he thought to himself matter-of-factly, _what a coincidence, that’s exactly what I was looking for…_

 

The sudden dip of the mattress as a weight settled onto the bed stirred Zell from the dream he’d been deeply engulfed in; however, it wasn’t until an arm snaked itself around his waist that he fully grasped the fact that there was someone else beside him in the bed. Immediately wide awake, he leapt up, staring down in horror as he realized just who had crawled into bed with him, and shook Seifer by the shoulder until the other man began to show signs of consciousness.

“Seifer! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Seifer looked blearily up at him. “Dincht? Fuck’re you doing ‘ere?”

“I _was_ sleeping,” Zell replied angrily, shoving the gunblader to the edge of the bed. “This is _my bed_ , after all!”

“Hum?” Seifer made a noise of comprehension in the back of his throat, but it was clear to Zell that he wasn’t grasping anything the younger blond was saying. Zell gritted his teeth in frustration as he watched his unwanted bedmate hiding his head under a pillow.

“I don’t care how drunk you are, you’re not sleeping in my bed,” he snarled as Seifer, who didn’t appear to be listening to a word he was saying, wriggled his way back toward the center of the mattress. Zell pushed him away again. “Get the hell out of here, dickhead-”

“Dincht,” Seifer interrupted suddenly, his face screwed up in discomfort as he clasped the pillow around his head. “If you never do me another favor in your life, chicken-wuss, shut up right the fuck now. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I swear to Hyne, Seifer, if you puke in my bed-!”

“If you shut your yap and let me lay here peacefully, that won’t be a risk.”

Zell could only stare at the gunblader - who had, apparently, promptly fallen asleep after this declaration - in complete disbelief that bordered on denial that Seifer, his lifelong adversary, had just crawled into his bed and was proceeding to nestle right up to him in complete drunken abandon. If he hadn’t been so ticked off at the moment, Zell would have found it pretty hilarious. As it was, though, he was only growing more and more irritated with the other man, who had not only stolen his pillow but had now commandeered the comforter as well and was sprawled out in the center of the bed, forcing Zell into the corner. His expression was crumpled and pained, as though he was having an unpleasant dream - _and I damn well hope he is!_ Zell thought spitefully to himself - but, despite the enmity he felt toward Seifer, Zell just couldn’t bring himself to kick the slumbering man out of bed.

“I’m too damn nice for my own good,” he sighed as he fought for a corner of the blanket, grumbling to himself and settling uneasily down into the bed, but he was no longer the least bit drowsy. How was he supposed to sleep with that blasted drunk right behind him, constantly tossing and turning and breathing down his neck, his body radiating heat…

Zell clambered out of the bed, accidentally (or perhaps not) jostling the other man - not that Seifer would have noticed; he was clearly down for the count - in his haste to escape. What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? Just because it had been months… well, okay, it was closer to a year now… since he’d had someone in his bed didn’t mean he should be freaking out at the first press of a warm body against his, especially since that body happened to belong to the one person on the planet that he would never, under any circumstances, consider sleeping with, even if he were at all interested in sleeping with guys. He retreated to the bathroom, tripping over Seifer’s abandoned coat on the way and kicking the item aside frustratedly.

He flipped the light and turned on the tap to splash cold water over his face. “Too goddamn nice,” he repeated to no one, patting his face dry. Of course, he knew what it was like to wake up somewhere unfamiliar, hungover, with no recollection of how he got there, and feeling like absolute shit, and he wouldn’t have wished that even on his worst enemy - particularly since he knew just where Seifer had been and what he had been up to earlier that night; the only place Zell had ever known Seifer to get noticeably drunk was at a Garden event, and as the graduation banquet had been last night, he could put two and two together. Squall was going to give Seifer hell when he found out what he’d done - the headmaster always did - and perhaps Zell felt sorry for his rival. He did, after all, take a lot of crap from the other residents of the school (although he brought some of it upon himself, being an asshole as he was.)

That, however, didn’t mean Zell couldn’t be a jerk to him once he awoke - and he fully planned to. For now, though, he could allow Seifer a few more hours of peace; Hyne knows he didn’t get much of it in his life. He gave a weary sigh, rubbing his eyes. A glance at the clock confirmed it was still far too fucking early to be awake - it was barely six. _Well,_ he thought indifferently to himself, stretching his arms and shoulders as he tried to wake up, _I guess it’s not too late for a run…_

 

Seifer awoke, again, to the sound of pounding - although this time the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby, not from within his head… someone was stomping around close by. He groaned, the low, irritated sound morphing into a cry of pain as he cracked one eyelid and sat up and was assaulted by a bright, happy ray of sunlight directly in his eyes. He clamped a hand over his face and rolled back over into the mattress.

Footsteps approached, and Seifer thought he heard a quiet chuckle, as if someone was amused at his expense, but he could think of very few people who would dare to be. “Morning, Almasy,” a voice said - a very familiar voice, he thought, but he couldn’t quite place it… which was not surprising, considering that the state of his brain was comparable to vanilla pudding. “Tea?”

“Please,” Seifer replied softly, attempting to sound sharp but - if the snort he heard in response was any indication - falling flat in his efforts. It was just too much work to be snarky and his brain simply didn’t have the capacity for it at the moment.

“Milk or sugar?”

“Neither.” He could faintly hear the sounds of someone making tea in the next room. And who the hell had come into his room, anyway? The few people who knew his passcode or possessed a keycard that would gain them entry would hardly be inclined to stay and make him a cup of tea, even if he was feeling shit-awful and, presumably, looking the part as well. He rolled to the left, and was unpleasantly surprised to find himself rolling right onto the floor, the collision sending waves of pain rolling through his skull.

That was definitely not right. There should have been a wall there. Feeling suddenly very apprehensive, Seifer sat up and peeled his eyelids open to find himself staring at a bedroom that was not his. The bed, on which he’d just moments ago been soundly snoring - not his. The walls, the bookshelves opposite, the posters tacked up, that punching bag hanging in the corner - none of it his. Well, there was one thing here that was his; he stood shakily and shuffled over to snatch his trenchcoat off the floor where it lay in a crumpled pile, and he slipped it on, still looking around and racking his brain to find something familiar in this room, but after a couple of minutes he was certain he had never been here before. Moreover, it didn’t seem to be another student’s room - the layout was different from his own, and it was larger, it could almost have been an instructor’s…

Seifer’s entire body stiffened as he contemplated the thought. He couldn’t have spent the night in a teacher’s room… no, what teacher would have taken him in, drunk as he was? Even Quistis, who was only slightly more tolerant of him than any of the other instructors, would have quicker turned him in to Squall than allow him to sleep off his inebriation in her dorm. In fact, Seifer couldn’t think of a single person within Garden who would take him in like that, except Fuujin or Raijin, (and Fuu only if she was in an exceptionally good mood; if not, she’d be more likely to kick him to the curb than anyone else,)… but that was beside the point anyway, because neither of them were currently here; they had both been deployed to Esthar as representatives of Garden for the annual conference on the other country’s ever-advancing technology. Squall had taken to sending the pair of them to Esthar often, which he claimed was because Fuujin did exceptional work as an ambassador for the Garden, but everyone knew was only because he didn’t want to go himself. _And who_ would _want to, with a father like that?_ Seifer mused to himself. In any case, he didn’t see much of either of them anymore, which (although he wouldn’t admit it, even to himself,) made him a little depressed.

Not that that really mattered at the moment… he still hadn’t figured out just who the fuck’s room he was in.

He turned around and wandered slowly toward the kitchenette, not entirely certain that he wanted to know who was sitting in there. There wasn’t a long list of people it could be… Perhaps he could just leave without finding out who it was. There was no reason, after all, that he couldn’t just turn and walk right out the door… except that he was Seifer Almasy, damnit, not some kind of coward who would run away to avoid embarrassment. Think of what would happen to his reputation if _that_ got out. No, the better option was to make sure that whoever’s hospitality he had imposed on for the night was going to keep their mouth shut about the whole event… and with that thought in mind, he peeked around the kitchen door.

“Dincht?!” He growled, shocked. Zell looked calmly up from the news feed he was reading on his laptop, taking a bite of his fried egg on toast.

“How’s your hangover, Almasy?” He asked chipperly, and Seifer wanted to chop his head off. Chipperness should be banned so early in the morning. (It was actually nearly ten already, he noted with a glance to the digital display over the microwave, but as he’d been up into the wee hours of the morning, it was still too early for him to be properly awake.) The martial artist rose from the table and poured a steaming mug of tea from the kettle, offering it out to Seifer, who accepted it only hesitantly. “Y’look like shit, by the way.”

“Uh…” Seifer said stupidly, standing in the doorway with his mug as Zell returned to his seat and chomped on his breakfast. The smell of it was making Seifer slightly queasy, and he sipped his tea, feeling completely clueless. What was Zell up to?

“Breakfast?”

Seifer shook his head, and his brain throbbed. Why couldn’t Zell offer him some damn aspirin?

“Well.” The other boy chewed on a corner of toast, his casualness irritating Seifer. “If there’s nothing else you need, why don’t you get the fuck out of my room.”

“Don’t give me orders, chicken-wuss!” Seifer barked, but was silenced by the unusually sharp glare he received in response. Looked like Zell had more fire in him than he would have thought. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, cradling the mug of tea in his hands, and at length moved over to sit at the table.

Zell was masterfully ignoring his presence, displaying a rare nonchalance where Seifer was concerned… _Picked a fine fucking time to start acting mature_ , he thought. He shifted uncomfortably in the kitchen chair and drank some of his tea, feeling a bit refreshed. A smoke would really clear his head, and maybe kick some of his few remaining brain cells into gear - but in the mood he was currently in, Zell would probably start breaking his fingers if he tried to put a cigarette between them, so Seifer didn’t figure it was worth the risk. He turned the pack over in his pocket, running his fingers over the edges of the box. Zell watched him passively before leaning back in his chair to rummage through a drawer behind him, producing an object which he placed in the center of the table… a glass ashtray.

 _Well, damn,_ Seifer thought to himself, even as he pulled the dish toward him and lit up, _the chicken’s just full of surprises this fine morning._ “You a smoker?”

Zell simply shook his head, typing on his computer with one hand as he slurped egg off of his now-soggy toast. Seifer smoked, discreetly watching the other boy - he looked utterly serene as he stared at the computer screen and finished his breakfast, tossing his head to remove the damp locks of golden hair that were hanging in his eyes. Without that stupid crest, his hair was actually quite long; he looked older, more mature, like the instructor he was, and not like the little kid he still acted like. A silence stretched between them. Seifer found himself becoming seriously aggravated; it figured that the one time he actually _wanted_ Zell to talk, to say something, any kind of explanation - even just to tell him to piss off - the other man refused to be his usual chatter mouth self. He sucked in lungfuls of smoke and then stabbed the last bit of his cigarette out in the ashtray.

“What am…” he began, stalling as Zell looked up at him. _Oh, fuck it, what do I care what Dincht thinks of me?_ “What am I doing here?” he plunged on, frowning and hoping that putting on his best scowl would intimidate Zell enough to keep him from making any smart-assed remarks. He wasn’t honestly surprised that it didn’t work, either.

Zell closed his laptop and put down his toast, dusting the crumbs from his hands as he gave the gunblader the most serious look he’d ever seen the boy make. “You don’t… remember?” He asked quietly, gravely, and Seifer felt his stomach lurch.

“Don’t fuckin’ play games, Dincht,” he snarled, standing from his seat and slamming his mug of tea down on the table, but Zell wasn’t cowed by his show of aggression. Even without weapons or magic, Zell could beat Seifer in a physical fight any day of the week, and they both knew it. Moreover, Zell had something on Seifer - that smirk, that look in his eyes, both said clearly that he did - and Seifer would be damned if he was going to go without finding out what it was. “Answer my question.”

“You were drunk,” Zell began - a bit unnecessarily, Seifer thought, as it was obvious to him that he’d been trashed last night - and paused for a moment, as though he was thinking on how to phrase something delicately. He went on, “You barged into my room. Forced yourself into my bed. Tried to get handsy… practically begged me to let you stay, in fact.”

“You’re full of shit,” Seifer said immediately, clenching a fist on the table, but he couldn’t pretend that the slight shifting of his voice - a subtle and brief rise in timbre - was unnoticeable… and it certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by Zell, who was now smirking again, clearly aware that he had the upper hand simply because he had knowledge of what had happened the night before, whatever that was. It wasn’t as if Seifer really believed he had drunkenly done anything more than simply trying to sleep in Zell’s bed - hell, this was the chicken-wuss! Sleeping on the cold hard ground outside was more appealing than the thought of coming on to Dincht, even for bedspace - but just the fact that he had hesitated, that somewhere in the back of his mind, some part of his brain didn’t find the thought of it completely and utterly impossible, gave Zell far too much leverage for Seifer’s liking.

“Yeah, well, believe what you want,” Zell replied coolly, rising from his seat, “that’s the story I’ll be telling Quistis when she comes looking for you - and you _know_ she’s gonna because you definitely made an ass out of yourself at the banquet last night.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Seifer growled.

“If you don’t piss off right now, I won’t have to dare. In ‘bout five minutes, that corridor’s going to be full of students.”

Seifer wanted to retort, but he knew full well that was the truth - he had a very small window of time in which to escape unseen from the instructor’s room, and that window was coming to a close. Furthermore… just what the hell was up with Zell this morning? Maybe it was just because in his hungover state, Seifer possessed the approximate IQ of a potted plant, but Zell seemed to be getting the better of him at every turn this morning. He was completely cool and collected, while Seifer was caught unawares and agape, unable to come up with even one witty, snarky rejoinder to defend himself. Had the world gone mad, or was he finally losing his finesse when it came to dealing with the chicken?

He snarled under his breath, but Zell wasn’t fazed by his hostility. He had returned to his seat and was now staring at Seifer, almost… expectantly? Like he was waiting for something? _Oh, right, he’s waiting for me to run away_ , Seifer thought testily.

So, for the first time in his life, Seifer did just that.


	2. Chapter 2

“Seifer, I wonder if I could have a word with you?”

Seifer barely glanced up at the tall blonde approaching him. “No,” he said curtly, hoping that perhaps she would just leave if he ignored her presence long enough - of course, it had never worked before; when Quistis got it in her head that the needed to talk, there was little Seifer could do to escape her until he had been thoroughly lectured… but a guy could dream, right? She took a seat across the table from him, setting down a massive binder crammed with folders and papers next to her lunch tray.

“That wasn’t really a question,” she announced, giving him a very stern, don’t-even-think-about-trying-to-wiggle-your-way-out-of-this-one kind of stare. As if he would have tried to embark on such a useless endeavor as attempting to get out of a scolding from Quistis, Queen of Lectures. He picked at the half-eaten sandwich on his plate while the instructor watched him, clearly trying to determine exactly how bad his mood was and mentally adjusting the severity of the sermon she was planning to give him accordingly. At length, she began, “I didn’t see much of you at the graduation ceremony last night.”

“I didn’t see much of you, either, instructor,” Seifer replied cordially, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, “but that’s probably because I was making a conscious effort not to.”

“Seifer,” she said in her most authoritative voice. The gunblader smirked; not fifteen seconds into their conversation, and she was already bringing out the big guns. Either he’d done something particularly dastardly to her last night that he couldn’t remember, or - more likely - Squall had bitten her head off for not chaperoning him properly at the banquet and she was now going to take out her frustration on him. “What were you up to last night?”

“Give me one reason why it’s any of your business, and I’ll tell you,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. Her expression turned stony, and she abandoned the salad she had been nibbling at to clasp her hands together in front of her, giving Seifer a very no-nonsense stare that may have worked on her groupies, but certainly didn’t daunt him any.

“Very well. It’s my business because I am the one who had to spend half the morning searching for you,” she said coldly, peering at him over the rim of her glasses. “Xu and I looked for you for hours after the banquet had ended. All I want to know is where you spent the night, and that you didn’t create any disturbances.”

“If I had, wouldn’t you have heard about them already?” he snipped back. Unsurprisingly, her irritation with him was not mitigated by this answer at all.

She tossed her head, and Seifer noted a flock of her groupies hovering nearby, no doubt monitoring their conversation closely to make sure he wasn’t causing their beloved instructor any undue stress. He sighed again, pushing his plate away, but before he could actually get up and escape, Quistis continued, “You didn’t spend the night in your room, and I checked all the usual places. Now, I could go through all the security footage from last night, but I think it’d just be easier if you told me and saved us both a lot of time.”

“The usual places?” he repeated, slightly annoyed by the way she’d said that - as if getting stinking drunk and collapsing just anywhere was something he did regularly enough for her to know where he would go to do it. She gave him a small, cocky grin that was completely uncharacteristic of her… what was it with everyone taking the piss out of him today? Zell was one thing, his and Seifer’s paths didn’t cross often these days and, okay, maybe Seifer was a little out of practice where it concerned dealing with people outside his immediate circle of Fuujin, Raijin, and Quistis. But still, he could usually outwit Quistis in his sleep - although, granted, these days she didn’t seem to be trying too hard - he must be pretty off his game this morning.

“Your dorm, of course, Fuujin’s, and Raijin’s,” she began to tick off on her fingers. “The library, the parking lot - behind the front desk - the maintenance tunnels… I even went through the training center to make sure you hadn’t passed out and gotten chewed on by a T-Rexaur. I think that just about covers all your usual haunts…”

Seifer gritted his teeth. How did she know all of his favorite hiding places? She was smiling gently, waiting patiently for a reply, and, to be honest, he was a little too dumbstruck by the fact that she apparently knew where he was at every moment of the day to be bothered putting much effort into a response.

“Well, since you’ve established that I wasn’t in any of those places, that leaves you a lot less area to cover when you’re looking over that video footage, doesn’t it?” he said tepidly, standing and grabbing his lunch tray before stalking off. He dumped the remnants of his lunch in a bin, stacked the tray on top, and then cast one glance back at Quistis - whose put-out expression displayed plainly that her threat to probe the security footage to find out where he’d spent the night was nothing more than a bluff, to which he smirked, feeling extremely smug - before stalking out of the cafeteria.

It’s not like she would have believed him, anyway, if he had told her the truth. Who would believe that he could ever be desperate enough to sleep with Zell - or that Zell would ever let him? The idea of it was so far-fetched it bordered on preposterous. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t imagined the entire ordeal… No, the memory of Zell’s body pressed against his, even for just the moment that it had been, still burned on his skin, that was no dream…

_Wait… what?_

Seifer blinked, and he stopped short where he was walking down the corridor, causing a small crowd of irritated cadets to mutter at each other as they closely avoided running into him. What was he thinking? He shook his head, trying to regain his train of thought. He’d have to come up with something to put Quistis off, or the next time she came looking to interrogate him she’d probably have Leonhart on her heels - and more prolonged time with Squall was exactly the thing Seifer _didn’t_ need any time soon.

He was going to have to find another hiding spot, though, and there weren’t a lot of places within Garden anymore that Quistis couldn’t find him. Well, then, he was just going to have to make himself a lot harder for her to find.

 

Zell sluiced a handful of cold water over his face before turning off the tap, leaning over the bathroom counter as he breathed heavily, the only sound in the quiet dorm room besides the gentle thumping of the punching bag in the corner as it bounced against the wall. He still felt edgy - his entire body was as tense as a coiled spring, even after his run, after the two hours he’d spent pummeling grats in the training center, and even after having beaten the stuffing out of every bag he owned… this was too much.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know what the problem was… no, that in itself was the problem; he knew exactly why he couldn’t get rid of all this tension, and it was seriously unnerving him. He had gone far longer than this without sex before, and it had never affected him this badly… but then, he’d never been teased like this before, either, and he had always had someone to go to if things got really desperate - if not a girlfriend, then at least someone with whom he could come to an arrangement that was suitable for them both.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. That was it… he knew just where to go. He patted his face dry with a towel and grabbed a jacket off the back of the door, shrugging it on over his black tank-top, heading for the door - and jumping back in shock as he opened it to find someone standing just on the other side.

“Quistis!” he said in surprise, stepping back to allow her room to enter. “Sorry, you scared me!”

“You scared me a little,” she admitted, placing a hand on her chest. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Nope, c’mon in,” Zell replied, waving her in. She entered, toting the massive file folder stuffed thick with papers that she never seemed to be seen without, and she rifled through it until she found what she was looking for, pulling out a smaller three-ring binder that she handed over to her colleague with a smile.

“I just brought a few things, um… my schedule for next week, some of the topics I was planning to cover in class…” she explained, watching Zell flip through the binder, scanning her lesson plans. “And thanks again for covering my classes next week. I wasn’t expecting to have to go to Timber so soon…”

“S’no problem, I got absolutely nothing going on,” Zell grinned in response, snapping the binder shut and tossing it haphazardly onto the couch, earning himself a disapproving stare from the beautiful blonde. He shuffled from foot to foot, cramming his hands into his pockets, while Quistis went on about her syllabus, which subjects were to be covered on which days, how much time was to be spent on each point, and other stuff that Zell generally didn’t give a damn about; he was planning to let her class have free study all week, mostly because he felt they deserved it - good intentions aside, Quistis tended to be hard on her students - well, maybe he could show a movie or something, so they could at least pretend he’d done some teaching while he was substituting in her absence...

_Absolutely nothing… Absolutely nothing…_ the phrase echoed in his head like a death knell. It was painfully true; he had nothing going on, absolutely nothing at all, in his life right now. The two classes he taught - history of magic and intermediate junctioning - were through for the semester, although there was still the beginner’s hand combat course he headed, which ran year round, but that was just one hour once a week - hardly anything to occupy his time. In fact, until Quistis had come to him to ask the favor of him substituting while she went on a mission, he had entirely planned to seclude himself in his room with a stockpile of junk food and some good movies and books for the week - although, as he now thought about that plan, it seemed miserably pathetic, and he was somewhat glad he had been given the opportunity to do something more constructive than vegging out in his dorm room.

“Zell?” He snapped his head up. Quistis was repeating his name concernedly, and he did a mental backpedal to try and remember just what she was going on about before he’d completely zoned out. He sidled over to the couch and retrieved the binder he’d so disrespectfully discarded minutes before, skimming through it again so as to seem like he’d been following her.

“Sorry, I must’ve spaced out for a second. What were you saying?” he muttered.

“Have you been smoking?”

“What? You know I don’t smoke-” Zell replied, confused, and looked up at her - but she was staring, not at him, but through the door to the kitchenette at the table, where the ashtray he’d set out for Seifer that morning was still sitting with the two mugs right where he’d left it all and had forgotten to put it away. He felt himself pale - there were only two people who ever visited him who smoked, and Quistis knew that, because one of those two was herself (she had, in fact, been known to go through a pack a day or more during the more stressful times of the school year, like exam season,) and the other was Irvine, who had been in Galbadia for the past five months and was therefore very unlikely to have come calling on Zell recently. She turned her gaze on him curiously, and he adopted an expression of utmost nonchalance, racking his brain for something to put her off the subject.

“Who else do you know that smokes?” Zell resisted the urge to curse aloud. Any other time there was a sign that someone had possibly stayed the night with him, she would be far too polite to ask outright, instead preferring the tactic of keeping a respectful silence punctuated with pointedly curious stares, waiting until he spilled the secret himself - which Zell usually did; he and secrets had never gone well together. Figures the one time he really was concerned about no one knowing who had spent the night in his room, she would choose to become interested in his personal life.

“Nida,” he blurted out the first name that popped into his head, and Quistis looked utterly shocked - as well she should; why the fuck he’d said the pilot’s name he’d never fathom, because Nida was probably the very last person he could imagine smoking, besides which they were hardly friends at all; if the other SeeD were to have any unsavory habits like that, Zell would be one of the last people he confided in about it. Quistis frowned contemplatively, while Zell internally cursed himself for once again having spoken completely without thinking, a trait of his that more often than not got him into trouble.

“I’m certain Nida doesn’t smoke,” she said eventually - and she would be the one to know, Zell thought to himself, as she seemed to spend much of her time keeping tabs on everyone to make sure they were behaving themselves in a manner befitting SeeDs (despite the fact that she, herself, often behaved in a manner very unbefitting of a veteran SeeD _and_ an instructor - anyone who’d seen her performance on top of the bar at the last New Year’s party could attest to that.) Zell bit his lip, fishing for something to say.

“Well, I don’t think he likes people to know. It’s not often. Just, y’know, when he’s stressed out,” he said sheepishly. Quistis didn’t seem to be buying it. Damn, he was just digging himself deeper and deeper, wasn’t he?

“Stressed out?”

“Come on… the guy flies this damn Garden around twenty-four-seven… you don’t think that gets a little stressful?” he tried. To his relief, Quistis began to look chagrined, a sign that she believed him and was slightly ashamed of having doubted him. On impulse, he added, “just… don’t mention it to anyone, okay? Especially Nida. He’ll know I blabbed.”

“Of course,” she nodded enthusiastically. Quistis was so easy to play; although she’d never admit it, she would do anything to be let in on a secret, which Zell knew full well and used to his advantage as often as he could get away with. “Anyway, I should get going. You looked like you were about to go out somewhere, yourself,” she said, assuming a serious expression once more. Zell shuffled from foot to foot, giving a casual shrug.

“Yeah, gotta stop by the library.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, then.” Quistis moved past him to the door, showing a rare warm smile as she clutched the monstrous clip of papers to her chest. “I’ve got to check in with Squall, so I’m going the other way.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded, waving her off as she sauntered away, the clacking of her heels on the tile echoing through the corridor. Zell sighed. He watched her leave and, when she had rounded the corner, promptly slammed the door shut and stomped back into the kitchen to get rid of the dishes he’d so carelessly left out - disposing of evidence, as it were. That was certainly reckless - how could he have been so absentminded as to leave such incriminating evidence lying around? Well, he hadn’t been expecting any surprise visits from Quistis or anyone, there was a small point in his favor. He dumped out the ashes and threw the ashtray back in the drawer where it belonged, and then gathered the two mugs from the table and tossed them rather heedlessly into the sink.

_And Nida? What the fuck possessed me to say his name, of all people?_ Zell thought to himself crossly, leaning against the counter and heaving a great sigh. Hyne, that really was a close call - and Quistis tended to be of the suspicious sort; had he really put her off the scent, or was she just feigning noninterest in his guest? It was hard to tell with her… Zell could rarely tell what his colleague was thinking; she seemed to often have hidden agendas, which was quite fine with him, as long as he didn’t have his own agendas to try and keep, well, hidden. And although he’d managed to remain uncharacteristically nonchalant earlier that morning when Seifer was still around, he had as much desire as the other boy to keep the fact that he’d spent the night there a secret. In fact, he had more - he was an instructor, after all, and even though Seifer was a dick and somewhat of a special case within Garden, even though they had history, even though everyone knew that Zell was just too nice for his own good and would never kick anyone out in cold blood - even someone who had made a good portion of his school life a complete misery - the fact remained that Seifer, a student, had spent the night in his, a teacher’s, room, and that spelled trouble with a capital T if anyone found out.

He stood there for a few minutes more, mentally cursing himself and then Seifer, whose fault the whole stupid situation was in the first place. The idiot just _had_ to come knocking on _his_ door - and why, in the first place, had he even _opened_ the door? It wasn’t as if anyone he ever expected to come visiting would do so in the middle of the night, but then, he _had_ been in the middle of a dead sleep, and Seifer had been making an undue amount of noise in the hallway. In fact, he had been surprised that no one else had already gone out there to kick the gunblader’s ass before he himself got to it, before he’d remembered that most of the other instructors were at the banquet-

The banquet. The banquet that Seifer had gotten himself blitzed at and then escaped from in order to come irritate Zell. The banquet that Quistis had also been at and had complained about for days prior because Squall had set her the task of playing babysitter to the unpredictable blond, who she _had_ to have noticed had disappeared halfway through the celebration. How long would it be before her suspecting nature incited her to put two and two together, and wonder just where Seifer had escaped to…?

Zell scoffed aloud at himself. Now he was just being paranoid. He needed to get his mind off the whole ordeal, and especially off Seifer. Which reminded him of what he had been planning to do before Quistis’ untimely arrival, but he wasn’t entirely sure he still felt like… well, there was no harm in getting out of the apartment for a little while to clear his head, in any case. He could sure use a distraction right about now, and, luckily, he knew exactly where to find one.

 

Seifer carefully scanned the area to make sure it was clear of anyone he didn’t want to encounter - which was just about everybody - before he climbed over the ledge he had been hiding behind and swung down from his perch on the sloping roof over the Quad. He dropped the twenty feet or so to the ground in a crouch and then stood, dusting a few ashes off the sleeve of his coat. Hyne, but it was a pain getting up there - but it was well worth it, being both completely secluded and so inconvenient to access that it was almost a guarantee that he would never have the surprise of being joined there. It also happened to be just about the last place he could be close to sure that no one would be able to find him - particularly a certain blonde instructor who had a bad habit of sticking her nose in his business, which was one place it certainly didn’t belong.

He wandered slowly out of the Quad, musing on where to go - there was no place in particular he wanted to avoid; he disliked every sector of the Garden as much as the next, and as they were currently docked in FH, he wouldn’t be going outside of the ship to explore - he held as much contempt for the fishing village as it did for him, although it was understandable that they should hate him, him having been the head of the Galbadian army and the Sorceress’ mascot; in essence, the face of the war. Peaceable town or not, it was evident every time he stepped outside the Garden that the residents held grudges, and even in the best of moods Seifer had a hard time taking it in stride. He knew full well that he deserved it, but that didn’t mean he had to _like_ it.

He circled the first floor, and then veered towards the dormitories. He couldn’t leave the ship, his classes had all ended for the semester, he hadn’t been sent on any missions in fuck knows how long, and Fuujin and Raijin weren’t due back from Esthar for another two weeks or so - Seifer wondered if it wasn’t possible to be bored to death. He rounded the corner towards his room - and stopped short upon seeing the congregation of people gathered by his door. _Damn. Double damn. Is it too late to run away?_ he thought to himself.

“Seifer, there you are!” Quistis chirped, starting toward him, followed by the second and third on the list of his least favorite people - Squall and Xu. Yep, too late. Grumbling to himself, he walked forward again; maybe he could just walk right past them into his room. No, maybe not - Squall was giving him a glare icy enough to send chills down Shiva’s spine, although Seifer couldn’t imagine that he was really _that_ offended by him bunking out of the party early the night before, not when he knew for a fact that Squall hated attending those things as much as he did, if not more - Seifer, at least, wasn’t forced to make speeches at every event. But he couldn’t remember any other recent instances in which he had done anything that might piss Leonhart off, aside from simply existing, which seemed to piss everybody off to some extent, so he attempted to remain impassive, waiting to see what this was all about. Quistis went on, “Where have you been all afternoon?”

“My dear Quistis, wherever did you get the idea that my whereabouts are any of your business?” he replied cordially, though not enough so to keep from receiving a collective look of disdain from the three of them. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was going to be a fun conversation.

“You reek of cigarettes,” she added, giving a deep frown, but she didn’t look expressly angry, merely thoughtful. “You do know smoking is banned in the Garden, don’t you.”

“Really? And does that apply to teachers as well? Because you might be in some trouble yourself, instructor,” he replied, but with little venom - Quistis was still frowning at him, contemplative, as though something had occurred to her and she was trying to piece it together in her head. She didn’t even notice the curious glance Squall shot her way at the accusation, and continued to say nothing for a few moments, her unusual silence making Seifer good and nervous. At length, Xu spoke.

“You know, Seifer, just because you-”

“I suppose,” Quistis interrupted, paying no attention to the other girl whom she had cut off and who was now staring at her, looking fairly offended, “That you’ve been hiding out in the same place you effectively hid from me last night?”

Seifer peered at her, unsure of where she was heading. “No,” he answered eventually, “I wasn’t, actually. Not that it’s any of your business where I spend my free time.”

“It’s our business when we need to find you and you’re nowhere to be found,” Xu interjected, her sharp tone indicating that she was more than a little irritated with him - she was evidently still bitter about having had to spend half the night searching for him with Quistis. Seifer, himself, was becoming frustrated with the three of them; Xu was looking very cross with him and not attempting to hide it, Squall seemed to be torn between being amused at her anger and being angry himself, and Quistis was still merely staring at him, _scrutinizing_ him - but for what purpose, he couldn’t be sure, and that made him slightly anxious.

“So, what?” he began with a half-laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “You all came down here to grill me, to find out where I’ve been holing up? Just so you know, it’s not possible to nag someone to death, but good effort. Bravo.” He clapped sarcastically, edging around the group and toward his door. He didn’t quite make it inside, however, before someone spoke again - this time, Squall.

“I have a small assignment for you,” he said quietly, and Seifer turned despite himself. Squall shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets and looking supremely nonchalant, as he went on, “I was going to ask you to join Fuujin and Raijin in Esthar...”

“You were?” Seifer repeated doubtfully. His response was merely another shrug, and Seifer had to restrain himself from socking the stoic brunet in the face in reply to all his fucking shrugs.

“Seeing your attitude, I’m not so sure now.”

“You don’t look like you particularly want me to go,” Seifer said, leaning casually against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. It was true; Squall’s facial expression - though hardly far removed from his normal deadpan expression - showed that sending Seifer abroad was the very last thing he wanted to do. He was always hesitant to send Seifer anywhere, and especially anywhere where the ex-knight’s appearance might cause an altercation, which was, frankly, everywhere. Seifer could count the number of real, actual missions he’d gone on since he’d become a SeeD on one hand.

Quistis piped up, “he doesn’t - it was my idea. You seemed exceptionally restless lately, and I thought a change of pace would do you good,” she explained, leaving Seifer mildly surprised that she’d picked up on such a thing - but considering how much time she spent involving herself in the affairs of others, maybe it wasn’t so surprising. Still, although he certainly wouldn’t have admitted it, he felt somewhat grateful that she _had_ suggested it; he was beginning to feel a little stir-crazy being cooped up in Garden all the time.

“Why, I never knew you were so considerate, instructor,” he said civilly, offering her a sedated version of the sarcastic smirk he was so well known for. He had tried his best to keep the derision in his tone to a bare minimum, but had apparently not done so well enough, because her frown only deepened.

“Well, I personally thought that you would jump at a chance to get away from this place for a little while, but I guess I overlooked the fact that you are, after all, an ass,” She replied tepidly, folding her arms in front of her.

The smile dropped from Seifer’s face, replaced by a scowl that was almost as trademark as his smirk. “Well, if that’s all,” he said shortly, and turned to punch in the password on the keypad outside his door. The lock clicked and he slid the door open, but was not quite able to reach the sanctuary of _inside_ his room before Squall had one more thing to say.

“You’ll be leaving a week from tomorrow. Be ready to go by then.”

“And, it probably doesn’t need to be said,” Xu added sternly as Squall turned away and headed down the corridor, clearly having nothing more to add to the conversation, “but try and behave until then?”

She too, then, trotted away to catch up with the headmaster, and Seifer, left standing with Quistis, watched the two of them go from his doorway, feeling strangely… hmm… happy? Well, given the chance to finally get out of this flying prison and stretch his legs a little, who wouldn’t be? Getting to see his posse - well, he supposed they couldn’t really be called that anymore; they took their orders from Squall now, and the prissy commander would never let Seifer forget that - was an added bonus. He smiled to himself, before casting a glance over at the instructor who had, all the while, been watching him with the same intent she had shown throughout the whole encounter… and it was beginning to seriously unnerve him. She only ever looked at him like that if she was having some kind of idea, and he didn’t particularly want her having _any _ideas, because they never turned out to his liking.__

__“I hope you’re not plannin’ on hanging around here all day just cos Squall let you off your leash for a while,” he snorted, but, disappointingly, Quistis didn’t rise to the bait - didn’t even flinch at the implication, merely cocking her head slightly as she peered up at him… and was Seifer mistaken, or did she seem to be _smirking_? Shit, she was definitely on to something… but just _what_ , that was the million-gil question, wasn’t it? Well, knowing Quistis, she wouldn’t keep him in suspense long; she never had been especially good with secrets._ _

__“Oh by the way, Seifer, before I forget to tell you,” she began - _here it comes_ , Seifer mentally braced himself - and she smiled in a way that might have seemed sweet to anyone who hadn’t been on the receiving end of such smiles often enough to know what kind of mischievous intentions they hid. She was about to pull her trump card, whatever it was, and though Seifer honestly couldn’t think of anything he’d done lately that would cause her such elation just at the thought of holding it over him, he couldn’t help but be wary. He waited for her to continue, and she did, after a pointedly lengthy pause, “Zell was looking for you earlier. I believe he had something to discuss with you.”_ _

__Seifer hesitated, slightly taken aback; he’d been expecting _something_ , but, for a variety of reasons, not _that_. That’s why she’d been acting so imperious - goddamn Dincht had told her everything! He bit back his anger with difficulty - restraint had never been something at which Seifer excelled - and merely said, hoping he had injected enough indifference into his tone to put her off, “Dincht? Fuck do I want with him?”_ _

__“How should I know?” she replied, although her entire countenance suggested that she did, in fact, know. She looked positively triumphant, and Seifer was becoming angry not knowing _why_. He was just about to bite the bullet and ask her, he was that desperate to know what she was laughing at him over, but as he was steeling himself to begin, Quistis left - without even the consideration of a word of farewell, she simply turned and sped away, her head held proudly high, leaving Seifer to stand in his doorway thoroughly seething in anger._ _

___He’s so fucking dead_ , was the first thing Seifer decided after he took a few moments to collect his thoughts. Damned Zell and his big mouth…! If he’d told Quistis, who else had he told? No, never mind that - if Quistis knew, then it was only a matter of time before Squall knew, which meant that Seifer might as well just go start packing now. But before that, there was the small matter of crunching up Zell’s jaw a little to attend to - just to make sure that he didn’t blab to anyone else._ _

__It didn’t occur to Seifer until he was well on his way to the instructors’ wing of the dormitories to wonder _exactly what_ Zell had told her… Certainly he wouldn’t have followed through on the threat he’d made earlier in the morning… would he? Seifer felt a stab of panic as he pondered it. No, Zell wasn’t vindictive - unlike the gunblader, he wouldn’t be an asshole just for the sake of being an asshole; even when provoked, he rarely did more than bitch and rant or, if he was _really_ well egged on, throw a few punches, but he had never been known to seek petty revenge… And considering that Seifer hadn’t even really done anything to him, aside from costing him a few hours of sleep, he especially shouldn’t be seeking to do so now. But there was no way, absolutely no way that he’d told Quistis without knowing full well that it would get around - that was the only reason anyone ever told Quistis anything of importance._ _

__Well, it didn’t matter anyway… Zell would definitely think twice about ever spreading rumors about him again, Seifer was going to make sure of that._ _

__

__“Hey, Carmina! I need a favor,” Zell whispered loudly, nearly startling the girl he was addressing off the ladder up which she had been climbing, her arms full of books. She teetered, and Zell jumped under the ladder to catch her in case she fell - she didn’t, just managing to keep her balance at the top of the swaying ladder, but she glared down at him furiously, pelting him with a number of paperbacks until he retreated across the library in defeat._ _

__“Shit, Zell! What’s wrong with you, scaring me like that?” she huffed. Zell held up his hands, his expression offering a meek apology._ _

__“Sorry, sorry!”_ _

__“I’ll be down in like one second, just wait there!” she growled, turning back around and stuffing books back into the shelves where they belonged, the wrath simmering under her innocent exterior evident in the purely negligent manner in which she was cramming the books into their rightful places. Zell waited aside, tucking his hands into his pockets sheepishly - he always forgot that Carmina was the temperamental one, and he vaguely wished it had been the other girl working that afternoon, the shy little blonde one - he could never remember her name, but he was much less likely to receive a verbal bashing from her than from the other. Of course, it would have been best if Miri had been working, seeing as she was the person he was looking for, but he had no such luck._ _

__Carmina, now finished with her restocking, stomped back down the ladder and stalked over to Zell, who was waiting by the front desk, and boy did she look pissed off… Zell wondered if it wouldn’t just be better to apologize and retreat for now; the girl didn’t look like she was in the mood to be trifled with, and his reason for interrupting her work seemed more and more trifling with each heavy, angry step she took toward him. “I… I’m sorry, really I am,” he repeated, cowering slightly upon her arrival at his side, and he must have looked penitent enough, because her features softened a small bit._ _

__“ _What_ do you _want_ , Zell?” she asked sharply, punctuating each word with a quick breath as she folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the counter beside him. “I told you on Friday that the new issue of Combat King doesn’t come out until next week, so if that’s what you’re after-”_ _

__“No, that’s not it,” he said quickly, giving a long sigh. “I’m looking for Miri, she’s not working this afternoon?”_ _

__“No, she’s not,” Carmina spat, tossing her braids over her shoulder huffily. “I switched shifts with her today because she wanted the night off. She has a _date_ ,” she muttered the last as if just saying it was poison on her lips, and Zell felt the little bit of good spirit he had inside him deflate. So much for that plan. He hadn’t known Miri was seeing someone; to Zell’s knowledge, it would be the first time since they had broken up - if you _could_ call what had happened between them a break-up, since at the most their relationship had been (and, to some extent, still was) little more than the occasional hook-up. But even that, his last resort, was now no longer an option if Miri had a boyfriend._ _

__“Hm,” was all he said in response, chewing on the corner of his lip._ _

__“As if she’s the only one who ever had a fucking date. Like _no one else_ had anything to do tonight,” Carmina murmured, her tone acidic as she curled a stray braid near her temple around her finger. “ _My_ boyfriend lives in Balamb, and I had to work the _whole time_ we were docked there. Didn’t see _her_ volunteering to give me a day off so I could go on a _date_.”_ _

__Zell thought he knew exactly how she felt, but he didn’t say anything, mostly because Carmina didn’t seem to want an answer and he was still slightly wary that she might attack if he offered her one. At least he wasn’t the only one suffering from a lack of companionship, he thought bitterly to himself. For Hyne’s sake, he had saved the world - well, he had helped - girls ought to have been falling at his feet! But then, he had never been particularly good with girls in the romantic sense; he had plenty of female friends, but something about him always seemed to scare away the potential for anything more than friendship._ _

__“Hmmm,” he said again, wilting a little. Carmina peered sideways at him._ _

__“Y’okay, Zell?” she asked, a note of concern briefly overshadowing her pique. “You’re awful quiet.”_ _

__“You know…” he began, but trailed off with a desolate sigh. “It’s not important. Just, never mind.”_ _

__“Yeah?” She didn’t sound as if she believed him, and said, “well, s’there anything I can do to help?”_ _

__“No,” Zell replied, trying to suppress a snort of laughter at the ideas that _that_ brought to mind. No doubt if Carmina knew what he was after, she’d be much less keen on offering her assistance, but he wasn’t about to tell her. Instead, he went on, “thanks, but, uh… I’ll be fine.”_ _

__“Sure. It’s just strange, seeing you so mellow.”_ _

__“Sorry. Umm,” he hummed, pushing himself off the counter and shuffling from foot to foot as he turned around. “Anyway, I’ll see you around. And hey, sorry again about scaring you!”_ _

__“Yeah, you should be…!” he heard her call after him as he trotted away, but she was grinning when he cast a glance back at her, a sure sign that she wasn’t truly angry with him. She was a spunky girl, to be sure, and Zell had gotten on the wrong side of her enough times to know well enough how to defuse her anger when it was aimed at him. He remembered a time when they first met when he had even considered asking her out, but that notion was quickly put out of mind after he got to know her, and he was glad of it, too, because he was certain now that he never could have handled that much personality. Indeed, he’d like to meet the guy who could._ _

__Still, he mused to himself as he wandered down the hallway aimlessly, the trip to the library had not solved his problem - he was minus one friend with benefits with Miri out of the picture, and he was likely not going to find a solution to his dilemma inside the Garden. Going out into town to find a prostitute was an option, but certainly not an appealing one; besides, it was nearly dark already, and although he was allowed to be out of the Garden after dark, not bound by a curfew like the students, the disciplinary committee, headed by Xu, definitely did not condone it. He was supposed to be a role model, after all, and going outside to pick up a hooker didn’t strike him as the kind of behavior that Xu would find at all appropriate. Not that he would do that anyway, even as a last resort._ _

__His only recourse, therefore, was to tough it out, and he headed back toward his dormitory to do just that._ _

__It simply wasn’t fair. Why shouldn’t he be able to get a girlfriend? What was wrong with him that put girls off so much? Hell, if even Squall, the most reclusive, socially and emotionally retarded person Zell had ever met, could get Rinoa to date him - although there was some question of her sanity, all things considered, but everyone Zell knew unanimously agreed that it was the nearest thing to a miracle they’d ever heard of that the two were able to make their relationship work - why the hell couldn’t he find a nice, normal girl? It’s not like he was searching for a soulmate or anything; hell, at this point, there was only one quality he was looking for in a partner, and that was a good fuck. She didn’t even have to _like_ him, a long as she was willing to sleep with him, that’s all Zell wanted._ _

__The more he thought about it, the more pathetic it sounded._ _

__It was all Seifer’s fault, he decided after pondering it for a while more. Not that he couldn’t get a girlfriend, but that he was suddenly so preoccupied with it - the asshole just had to come crawling into his bed, making the fact that he usually occupied it alone ever more acutely felt, teasing Zell with his warmth and his touch and the press of his firm, solid chest against Zell’s back… _Wait a fucking second…__ _

__Zell stopped walking. Just when, exactly, did the feeling of another man’s chest become one of the things he liked to feel pressed against him? Last he’d checked, boobs had topped that list, and male anatomy was nowhere to be seen on it. Shit, he really _was_ desperate for even _considering_ the idea that was crossing his mind just now…_ _

___Bet he’d be a magnificent fuck, though,_ he thought to himself and couldn’t help a grin._ _

__He stopped outside the door to his room, and rested his forehead against the wall as he groaned to himself. As if Seifer would ever fuck him, really - no, that wasn’t the point; Zell wasn’t even _interested_ in such a thing; he was purely straight, and had never had any inclinations toward that sort of thing… definitely, definitely not… and as if the idea wasn’t ridiculous enough by itself, to think that he might have had any desire to sleep with _Seifer_ , of all people…_ _

__He punched his code into the keypad beside the door and it beeped to signal that it had unlocked, and he sighed deeply, closing his eyes against the headache that was sneaking up from his temples through his skull. Thinking was bad. People might have made jokes about Zell being stupid, but it was at times like this that he really wished he could shut off his brain for a while, and not have to think at all. He rubbed his tired eyes as he slid through the doorway and shut the door behind him, leaning against it and tilting his head back, eyelids crammed shut. He couldn’t wait for the new week to start; at least then he’d have something to distract him, teaching Quistis’ classes for a few days. Maybe it would be enough to put this entire train of thought far from his mind._ _

__“Shit, what’s wrong with me?” he groaned to himself - at least, he thought it was to himself; he certainly didn’t expect to be answered, and was understandably shocked when he was._ _

__“Well, I could make a list, but I don’t have that kind of time.”_ _

__Zell jumped in surprise, opening his eyes immediately, and his jaw dropped a little in disbelief. “Seifer?!”_ _

__The gunblader grinned, uncrossing his legs and rising from his place on the bed, tucking his hands into his pockets. His smile was not the least bit friendly, and the intentions hinted in his cold, dark stare sent a small shiver down Zell’s spine as he went on, “It’s about fucking time you got back, Chicken-wuss. We need to have a talk.”_ _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay honestly, re-reading the first few chapters of this fic for the first time in like six years has been a trial for me... anyway it gets better from here, promise.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Almasy?!”

The other man resisted a roll of his eyes, shooting Zell with a contemptuous sneer. “I just told you, we have to talk. I know concentration’s not your strong point, Dincht, but try to keep up with me here.”

“That’s not what I meant, asshole,” Zell snarled. “How did you get in my room?”

“1-2-3-4? Come on,” Seifer gave a derisive chuckle, earning himself daggers from the martial artist, who looked near ready to rip his unwelcome guest’s head off with his bare hands - which he could probably do, Seifer reminded himself with caution. “If you wanted your room to be broken into, why don’t you just leave the door unlocked?”

“You’ve got no fuckin’ right to just barge in here-”

“Excuse me, I did not barge,” he defended himself, sitting back down on the bed with the same air of serenity Zell had managed during their encounter that morning. Zell, on the other hand, was fuming as bad as Seifer had ever seen him, and the gunblader smirked in satisfaction - this was how things were supposed to be. Obviously, the logistics of their earlier confrontation had been nothing more than a fluke. “I opened the door and entered quite calmly, thank you.”

“That’s not the point, and get the fuck out,” Zell demanded, flinging the door open and pointing his finger to indicate in exactly which direction he expected Seifer to get moving. Seifer did rise, but he didn’t leave; he reached past Zell to slide the door shut again, deriving a measure of amusement in the series of color changes the enraged man’s face went through before settling on a very becoming shade of scarlet. Even his ears were red; over all the years of bullying and harassing, this might have been the angriest Seifer had ever seen his favorite target get - well, everyone had a limit, and it seemed Zell drew the line at breaking and entering when it came to Seifer’s invading his privacy just to torment him. Not that that’s what the gunblader was there to do, at least not this time, but there was no way for Zell to know that.

Seifer stood in front of the door, smirking - and thoroughly enjoying watching Zell fume as he continued, “no can do, Dincht. Y’see, when I said we needed to talk, I didn’t mean I would insult you and you would yell at me repeatedly to get out - I actually have something to discuss with you, and I’m not leaving until I’m satisfied that you understand how _pissed off_ I am just now.”

For the first time, Zell looked slightly wary, but he didn’t back down a step, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and glaring up at Seifer. “What could _we_ have to discuss, shithead?”

“Do you recall that I promised I would murder you if you told anybody I spent the night here?” Seifer asked, the tone of his voice deadly. Zell’s eyes narrowed as he was thoughtful for a minute, still looking confused as to just why Seifer was there, but marginally less infuriated than he had been moments before.

“Actually, I _don’t_ remember you saying that, but more to the point, I haven’t told anyone.”

Seifer frowned. Perhaps he had just thought it. He shook his head a little, and said in reply to Zell’s vindication, “Then how did Quistis know?”

“Quistis?” the martial artist repeated, his expression contemplative. Seifer nearly wanted to laugh; thoughtfulness was not a good look for Zell. In fact, he looked downright silly, his face scrunched up in concentration as he deliberated over the question Seifer had posed. Suddenly, a look of understanding crossed his face - _about damn time_ , Seifer wanted to growl - and, with a short sigh, he said, “dammit, the ashtray.”

“The ashtray?”

“Yeah, I left it out,” Zell groaned, taking a few steps backwards to plop down on the edge of the bed. “the ashtray, and the two mugs, and she came over about noon and saw it.”

“And she knows that you don’t smoke,” Seifer said conclusively, starting to see where this was leading.

“And you do.”

“She also knows that I disappeared halfway through the party last night and didn’t reappear until mid-morning, shortly after which she visited you to see that you had recently had company,” Seifer continued on, piecing it all together. Zell made a quiet noise of understanding, and then suddenly leapt to his feet, looking excited.

“So... she doesn’t actually know anything! She’s just guessing!” he said wildly with a grin. He looked positively joyous until Seifer stepped forward, snarling in anger.

“What the fuck are you so happy about, Chicken-wuss?” he barked - not fazed a bit by Zell’s hiss of, “quit callin’ me that, goddamnit!” - and he went on crossly, “This isn’t fucking funny. What she _thinks_ happened is way worse than what _actually_ happened.”

“What she thinks…?” Zell repeated, trailing off with a blank stare. It took him just a moment to get it, and he took on an expression of total disgust, crying out, “What? No way! No way she… no.”

“Yeah.”

Zell shuddered, his face a ripe shade of pink, and he sat down heavily on the bed again to think. He looked almost ill at the thought of it - and Seifer thought he knew exactly how the other boy felt; really, who could _seriously_ believe that there would ever be something between him and Zell, of all people? There were very few names on the list of people Seifer had never, honestly, truly, thought about screwing, but he could pretty safely say that Zell Dincht was one of them. The very notion was nauseating.

_And yet,_ a little voice piped up in the back of his mind, _this isn’t the first time today you’ve entertained said notion…_

Zell shot up again. “Alright, so… just go tell Quistis the truth. You were drunk, and because I am not a complete arsehole like _some_ people-” He gave Seifer a very pointed glare, as if the gunblader wouldn’t have been able to tell to whom he was referring, “-I didn’t kick you out. I’m sure she’ll understand, it’s just a misunderstanding on her part…”

“I’m sure she’d understand, if her and the clod squad weren’t all just itching to find a reason to boot me out of here,” Seifer said coolly. “Quistis has been hounding me all day trying to find out where I spent the night and, no doubt, to confirm that I was doing something to tarnish the Garden’s reputation.”

“Which you were,” Zell pointed out, a fact that, although true, was still unappreciated. “What do you give a shit, anyway? You hate being here,” he continued - and while that was painfully true, Seifer chose not to respond, merely grinding his teeth as he contemplated his situation. Of course he hated being here, but there was nowhere else for him to go; did Zell really think he’d stay in Garden if he had any other choice? Nowhere else would take him, and as it was, he’d had to practically beg just to be let back in here - not Squall, of course; Seifer would have rather faced a thousand years of exile than petition _him_ for a favor - he had gone to Matron, the only person in the world who could even remotely understand how he felt, and she had appealed to Cid, who, in turn, had appealed to Squall, who had only eventually allowed Seifer to return to his home within Garden under the strictest of guidelines (and, Seifer was inclined to suspect, with a lot of cajoling from Rinoa, who could always be counted on to want to help him in a time of need provided she could lord it over him later, which she did as frequently as possible whenever she was around - which is only one of the reasons why Seifer had a great many hiding places within the Garden.)

He hated knowing he was so indebted to all of them, but he could hardly do anything about it now; he simply kept his head down as much as possible and studied hard and, on the very rare occasions that he was given a mission, did his best to uphold the honor and credibility and pride, etc., of the SeeD name. To tell the truth, it was hardly any better than being the sorceress’ lapdog had been, apart from the fact that he got paid for being a SeeD, but (loathe as he was to admit it) if Garden ousted him, he would have absolutely nowhere left to turn. So as much as it pained him, his only option was to keep sucking up to Squall and his cohorts and hope that, in a few decades or so, his face would no longer be recognizable as The Guy Who Tried To Help That Crazy Bitch Destroy The World and he might possibly be able to live a quiet, semi-normal life in some reclusive little town somewhere.

He sighed.

“You know?” Zell said suddenly, jumping back to his feet with a triumphant expression on his face. “Fuck this, I’m gonna go tell her myself. I don’t give a shit what happens to _you_ ,” he declared, bouncing on the balls of his feet and then striding for the door. Seifer cut him off, blocking the doorway with his moderately larger frame, hoping that would be enough to hold Zell off for the moment - the gunblader was pretty handy with his fists when he needed to be, but he knew that Zell could whoop his ass if he was really spoiling for a fight.

“Think about this, Dincht.”

“I’ve thought about it. I couldn’t give a fuck less if they kick you out. In fact, it would make my day,” the instructor announced with a smug grin as he socked Seifer one in the stomach, and then shoved him aside to open the door. “Have a nice life, Almasy!”

“Do you really think,” Seifer wheezed - shit, it had been so long since he’d grappled with Zell that he’d forgotten how much power the smaller man could pack into one punch? - and Zell hesitated, not even two paces from the doorway. “That if I get kicked out of here, I won’t be beneath dragging you down with me?”

“What?!” Zell hissed, spinning around and marching right back into the dorm, slamming the door shut again behind him. “You wouldn’t…”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t?”

“Please. If it’s my word against yours, who do you think Squall’s gonna believe?” Zell scoffed, but Seifer was grinning.

“You’re an instructor, too. Think how much trouble you could be in if it got out that you were sleeping with a student…”

“You are the biggest fuckin’ prick-”

“So how about,” Seifer went on, straightening up as he finally caught his breath, “since it benefits us both for this to never get out, we try and find a different solution?”

“Yeah? You got something in mind?” Zell spat, pacing around the room in a fury, and Seifer resisted a smile; even if he hadn’t come here for the express purpose of tormenting the other man, that didn’t mean he couldn’t take pleasure in it. It was always fun to watch Zell flip out - he was so _animated_ about it, and it was just too easy to ruffle his feathers… although this time, it was understandable that he be distraught; this was his career Seifer was threatening to ruin.

The gunblader merely shrugged, giving a short, thoughtful sigh. “Give me a minute.”

“Oh, where’s the genius you’re always bragging about now?”

“Why don’t you stop flapping your mouth so that I can hear myself think,” Seifer bit. Amazingly, Zell followed his instruction - but he didn’t cease his frantic pacing, trotting back and forth across the small area of floor not occupied by furniture, occasionally pausing to let out an enthusiastic “Oh!” as if he’d had an idea, but eventually going back to his relentless pacing. As annoying as Zell could be at times - and oh, could he _ever_ be annoying when he really put his mind to it - Seifer couldn’t help thinking that his boyish energy was kinda… well… cute. And even as soon as that thought crossed his mind, so did the one that reminded him just who he was thinking these things about… Zell, for fuck’s sake! Hours ago, the idea that anyone could actually think he and Zell could actually be together had made him want to vomit. But thinking about it again, for a sudden, clear second - yeah, he could see it.

And then it hit him.

“What th’fuck are you smirking at? Quit it,” Zell commanded, watching Seifer with great unease. Seifer ignored him, grinning to himself as he thought on it more… this was probably the best idea he had ever had. Hell, how could he have not thought of this before? In all his years of tormenting Zell for fun, somehow, the idea had never crossed his mind… but here, in one fell swoop, was a way for him to get Quistis off his case - maybe for good, if he was as good an actor as he like to think - and have some fun jerking Zell around in the process. Although, there was always the possibility of getting punched in the eye by the martial artist, but that was a risk Seifer took every time their paths crossed.

“Man!” Zell exclaimed, crossing the room to jab Seifer lightly in the shoulder. “Quit that friggin’ creepy grinning! What’re you on about?”

“I have the perfect plan,” he announced smugly. Zell’s eyes lit up in excitement, and he bounced closer to the other man.   
“So what is it?”

“Let’s be friends,” Seifer proclaimed. Zell stared at him, big blue eyes wide with incredulity - and Seifer couldn’t help but be a little disappointed by how utterly put-off the instructor seemed by this suggestion. He didn’t have to look so, well, _offended_ , did he?

“That’s it?” he said, the disbelief in his voice bordering on astonishment. “That’s _not_ a plan.”

“Let me rephrase that,” the gunblader amended. “Let’s _pretend_ to be friends. Better?”

“Quit screwing around and be serious!”

“Just trust me on this one, Chicken-wuss, I know what I’m doing. Just do as I say.”

Zell looked less than convinced. “I fail to see how pretending to be friends is going to prove to Quistis that we’re _not_ fucking. Seems kinda counter-productive, don’t it?”

“First of all,” Seifer replied as a cold shiver ran down his spine, “I never, _ever_ want to hear you utter that phrase again. And second, it’s not necessary for you to understand. Just follow orders.”

“Fuck you! Just come up with something better!” Zell seethed, throwing another punch at Seifer’s shoulder, which was still aching from the last one the martial artist had bestowed on him. The idiot didn’t know his own strength - not that Seifer thought he would pull his punches even if he did.

“You hit me again and I’m not going to bother trying to help you at all.”

“I don’t see that you’re trying to help me now,” Zell muttered bad-temperedly. ”Explain to me how ‘let’s be friends’ is going to solve _anything_.”

“I would, but I’m not sure I know enough small words,” Seifer bit back, but with little venom. Zell flared up at this, but he let the comment pass by without remarking on it, beginning to pace again. _Just can’t sit still,_ Seifer thought to himself in annoyance.

“Why _me_ , Almasy?” Zell snarled suddenly, waving his arms wildly as if to emphasize the depth of his anger. “Why’d you come crawlin’ into _my_ fucking room?”

“I was drunk, remember?” Seifer snapped.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, as is usually the case with drunk people, I wasn’t entirely in control of my facilities,” The gunblader went on, punctuating his words slowly as though he was talking to a child. This answer didn’t assuage Zell any - in fact, it seemed to only amplify his anger; Seifer thought he looked about to boil over.

“Alright, and that made you feel the need to climb into my bed, why?”

“Uh, again, can I plead drunk?” Seifer scoffed disdainfully, although secretly he was quite embarrassed about that particular fact, but he felt secure that Zell could never pick up on something like that. “Rest assured that if I had been in a state of mind even _resembling_ sobriety, I certainly would not have picked _you_ to curl up next to for the night.”

He watched with some pleasure as Zell visibly shuddered, the red of his blush washing out into a very fetching shade of pink, which Seifer could only assume was due to embarrassment. “You’re the one who said not to talk about that!”

“I’m talking about sleeping. You were talking about fucking.”

“It’s all the same! _Anything_ that involves being within ten feet of you makes me physically ill,” Zell insisted, slumping onto the bed again. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and he glared at Seifer with a fury the other man hadn’t seen on him in rather a long time. Part of keeping his nose clean had meant no more picking fights for Seifer, but he’d kind of forgotten how funny Zell could - unintentionally - be when he got riled up. Although Seifer had to admit, red-faced and bashful was an interesting new reaction from Zell, especially since Seifer had no idea what the idiot had to be embarrassed about - _he_ wasn’t the one who had gotten trashed and done Hyne knows what the night previous.

Seifer peered thoughtfully at him. “Are you homophobic, Dincht?”

“No!” Zell replied vehemently, the forcefulness of his response surprising Seifer just a little. He added suspiciously, “Why, should I be? Are you gay?”

“No. Are you?”

“No!” Zell leapt off the bed. Seifer sighed, finding himself growing irritated with the Zell’s antics, amusing though they were.

“What? Not like it’s an illogical conclusion to make. You’re getting awfully worked up over this,” he remarked coolly. At that, Zell jumped toward him - apparently at his limit - grabbing Seifer by the front of his coat and throwing the door open with the other hand. Seifer didn’t bother to fight back as he was flung out the door - there wasn’t much he could have done in any case; he could tell just by the absolutely effortless way Zell tossed him into the hallway that the martial artist was still junctioned, and as much as Seifer hated to admit it, although he was _almost_ a match for Zell in hand-to-hand combat when they were both weapon and magic-less, if the other SeeD was junctioned, he didn’t stand a chance. Seifer never had a GF of his own; only when he went on missions was he lent one by Garden, and then only if it was something he wasn’t likely to be able to handle with his strength alone. Granted, because of that he had trained twice has hard, and he was discernibly stronger than most of his fellow SeeDs without any magic at all, but when it came to bare-handed brute strength, Zell had him beat, and he knew it.

“Stay outta my room,” the instructor hissed savagely, jabbing a finger into Seifer’s thrice-abused shoulder, before he stepped back into his dorm and wrenched the door shut again. He then proceeded to stomp around, kick something, and then punch the wall - or at least that’s what it sounded like to Seifer, who still stood outside the door, grinning. He shook his head slightly, reaching forward to type in 1-2-3-4 on the keypad on the wall, and then stepped into the entry of the room.

“Just a hint,” he remarked, smiling as Zell whirled around in a fury to stare at him. “You might want to change your passcode… locking the door might help as well—”

“Almasy!!”

“Really. 1-2-3-4? Anything is better than that. Use a date, someone’s birthday, something—”

Zell shoved Seifer back through the door, slamming it shut once more. Seifer contemplated opening it again, but only briefly, as it was very likely that Zell would be standing just inside waiting to sock him again, and he didn’t much feel like getting his nose broken today. Still, he allowed himself a triumphant grin as he turned and sidled away down the corridor - Zell was already playing perfectly into his plan, and the imbecile didn’t even realize it. For the first time in a while - quite a while - Seifer found he had something to look forward to in the coming weeks

It was almost a shame he would be leaving for Esthar in just a week…

 

Zell pasted on the cheeriest face he could manage before he left his room early Monday morning, and he was glad he had, too, because not even a hundred feet down the corridor he was greeted by Nida as the other man came out of his own dorm, clutching a thick stack of books in his wiry arms. But even his cheeriest facade was not put on well enough, it seemed, because after the pilot muttered a semi-enthusiastic “good morning,” he paused, a note of concern crossing his expression, and added, “or isn’t it? You look terrible, no offense…”

“Uh, none taken,” Zell said, rubbing his tired eyes. “Just couldn’t sleep, is all.”

“Hmm,” Nida replied, apparently not interested. That was one thing Zell liked about Nida; the pilot minded his own business. Or he just didn’t really care to hear about Zell’s problems, which was more likely, since they weren’t particularly close friends. Either way, if he was going to meet someone this early in the morning when he felt so like crap, he would rather it be Nida than any of his other friends; at least he was fairly reassured that the other SeeD didn’t have any desire to probe into his personal life. He shot Zell another inquisitive look. “You’re working today? I had thought all your classes were done for the semester.”

“Oh, yeah,” Zell shrugged, casting a glance down at his uniform. “I’m just pickin’ up for Quistis. You’re not either?” he queried, noting the other man’s civilian clothes. Nida nodded in affirmation, hefting up the pile of books in the crook of his arm.

“I’m off duty for now. I think we’re heading out next week, though, so…” He trailed off with an unmotivated shrug. “Wish I could take advantage of the break, but I gotta study…”

“You’re still taking classes?”

“Nah, Xu wants me to get my pilot’s license.” He sounded nonchalant, but Zell noted a hint of displeasure in his tone.

“Is that necessary?”

“Well, she seems to think so.” Nida snorted. Zell allowed himself a little chuckle. The brunet went on in a distinctly disgruntled tone of voice, “never mind that I’ve been flying this thing around for nearly five fuckin’ years. Xu suddenly thinks I need a license, I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ license.” He sighed somewhat dejectedly as they exited the dormitory wing and headed towards the lift. Zell tried not to laugh outright at him; it was always funny to witness the changes in Nida’s behavior when he wasn’t around Squall, Xu, or Quistis. He wouldn’t dare argue a point to Xu’s face, but he certainly had no qualms with griping about her as soon as she was out of earshot.

They strolled toward the center of the Garden leisurely; Nida, clearly, had no more desire to get to his studying than Zell did to get to work. It was still early and there were very few students about. They reached the elevator in silence, and then, casting a cursory glance over at the blond, Nida said tentatively, “So… any particular reason you didn’t get any sleep?”

“Eh?” Zell looked up, surprised. “Nah… just stuff. Work. You know,” he stammered, caught off guard by the question. He certainly hadn’t expected Nida to ask about it. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh. No reason, really.” Nida replied, but there was something decidedly smirky in his tone, something that Zell didn’t like.

“Nida, why do you ask?” he repeated more sternly.

“Well…” the pilot paused hesitantly, apparently wondering whether or not it was prudent to tell Zell whatever it was he thought was the reason for his lack of sleep. He went on, with more than just a tinge of curiosity in his words, “just there was a little rumor that you’ve had company this weekend, that’s all.”

“Wh… what rumor,” Zell scoffed, fighting remarkably hard to keep cool, when he suddenly had a strong urge to find Seifer and smash his face into something very solid. Whatever this was, Seifer had to be behind it. “Who’d you hear that from?”

But Nida replied simply, “Quistis,” and then shot a quizzical look down at the other man. “By the way, d’you happen to know why she thinks I smoke?”

Zell didn’t respond, chewing his lip in distress. There was a _ding!_ to signal the lift, and Nida stepped in, turning and waiting for Zell to join him, which he did after a moment’s pause, still deep in thought. Damn Quistis. He knew he should have just cleared the matter up with her when he had the chance. Now she thought he and Seifer were fucking - he still shuddered at the thought - and she was going to let little comments slip here and there until everyone was so curious about who Zell was seeing that he blabbed to someone. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even seeing anyone - if he _had_ been getting some, it would have at least made the fact that there were rumors about it bearable.

“So?” Nida prompted, jolting Zell out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Did you?”

Zell peered at the other boy, mildly annoyed. “I don’t see how it’s any of _your_ business, Nida, but no, I did not, and I have no clue how Quistis got that idea in her head,” he said somewhat tersely. He stepped out of the elevator as it opened on the second floor, and Nida followed after a brief shocked pause, a slight frown gracing his expression.

“Sorry, you’re right, it isn’t my business,” he apologized, trotting forward to catch Zell up. “Didn’t mean to piss you off or anything.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Zell flashed a grin, and Nida seemed allayed. “Anyway,” he went on, nodding over his shoulder towards the classrooms down the corridor, “I’ve got to get to class… and you’ve got to study…”

“Right, I do…” Nida confirmed, glancing down at his books with the merest touch of dismay in his countenance. He seemed to remember something, and looked up again. “Oh, before I forget to tell you, Miri Avandia was looking for you all yesterday. Y’know, she works in the library?”

“Oh, right,” Zell said absently. Nida murmured a farewell, and Zell heard himself return it as the pilot shuffled away toward the study center, but his mind was elsewhere - specifically, wandering ambiguously between the two questions that had plagued him all Saturday night and all last night, which is why he’d gotten so little sleep: what was Quistis planning to do with her speculation about Seifer and himself, and what exactly was Seifer’s so-called “plan” to stop her? Well, at least one of the two had been answered just now, although given the turn of events, he’d have rather not even known.

He had to wonder just how many people she had chirped this little bit of gossip to before she’d left for Timber last night - it seemed that, since all the people Zell was somewhat close to were currently away, she had turned to acquaintances; her having told Nida was proof of that. Selphie was in Trabia, Irvine was in Galbadia, Rinoa was in Timber - but Zell was fairly certain that the instructor would find some way to get the information to her during her stay - and Squall wouldn’t give a shit, so there’d be no point in her telling him. She wouldn’t have told Xu; that would be like a death sentence on Zell’s head, and really, that only left… Seifer himself. Even though he and the gunblader were only close in the vast realms of Quistis’ overactive imagination.

He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Seifer since Saturday night - not that he wasn’t grateful for that. He could go quite happily for the rest of his life without meeting that bastard again. But he couldn’t help but think that Seifer was up to something; what, he had no idea, but he didn’t like it all the same. Maybe Seifer had realized that the best way to defuse Quistis’ suspicion was to just stay the fuck away from Zell, and that definitely seemed a good plan in Zell’s reckoning. He had probably just been trying to piss Zell off that night, being his usual prickish self; otherwise, how could pretending to be friends be a plan for anything? It was ridiculous, and furthermore, it was stupid; Zell was hard put to believe that Seifer could plausibly feign amiability toward him any more than he could toward Seifer - more likely they’d only end up fighting even more if they tried.

He chewed his thumb as he entered Quistis’ classroom, where a few diligent cadets were already seated at their computers, raptly engaged in their studies. Two students looked surprised as he arrived and glanced at each other in disappointment; maybe expecting Quistis and hoping to win a little credit with their teacher by coming in early. Repressing a smile, he sat down behind the desk and pulled a sheaf of papers from one of the many folders Quistis had given him, pretending to be busy as he waited for the rest of the class to trickle in - but his mind was still whirling around the two problems that he just couldn’t think of a solution to, although he continued to ponder it until the bell rang for class, after he had taken attendance, and throughout the whole of the movie he played on the history of the Shumi tribe. And two and a quarter hours later, as the students were filing out of the classroom (looking marginally happier than Zell thought he’d ever seen any of Quistis’ students look after a class,) he still had come up with nothing.

Trouble was, thinking had never really been Zell’s strong point - oh, he was much smarter than most people gave him credit for; he’d passed all the exams he’d had to take to become an instructor with ease, and even back when he was a cadet, his problems with classes had been more in the line of sleeping through them or skipping them in lieu of more amusing pasttimes (i.e., eating and fighting) than not having the intellectual capacity to pass them. But plan-making was not his forte. Squall was a planner, Zell was just a follower. He just couldn’t think of any way to mediate his situation without one of three results: a) his reputation and, consequently, his job going down the toilet, b) Seifer getting the boot and slandering him in revenge and, consequently, his job going down the toilet, or c) people thinking they were fucking.

Quistis wasn’t unreasonable or anything - if Zell went to her and simply explained what had happened over the weekend, more than likely they could resolve this without any hassle. And yet… somehow Zell was reluctant to bring her into it more than she already was. He didn’t really believe that Squall and the rest of Garden Administration were out to get Seifer as much as the gunblader seemed to think; he was obviously paranoid. But Zell also, despite his earlier claims otherwise, would probably feel kind of shitty if he did get Seifer kicked out of Garden by snitching on him.

Zell had never more ardently wished that all his friends hadn’t been deployed out of Garden - he really needed someone’s advice, although even if they were all here, he had no idea who he might turn to. For matters of business, he usually turned to Quistis; personal matters, he generally went to Selphie or, lacking the little brunette’s presence, Irvine. But this matter was neither personal nor business - what he needed right now was cunning, and tact, and guile… someone to come up with a plan for him - like Seifer, but not Seifer. Someone who was at least on _his_ side.


	4. Chapter 4

Seifer managed a genuine smile as he stepped off the train in Esthar, blinded by the brilliant blue of the sky. He wouldn’t have thought it could be so nice to be out of Garden - and, more importantly, far removed from four of the five people that annoyed him the most (who were, in respective order, Quistis, Zell, Rinoa, and Squall; the fifth on the list was Odine, but Seifer was clinging to the hope that, as his mission in Esthar was basically to pick up Fuujin and Raijin and escort them back home, he wouldn’t have to suffer seeing the creepy little man for any prolonged length of time.) There were only a handful of passengers descending from the train with him; for most of the others, this was only a pit stop on their way further north toward Trabia. It had only been a half dozen months since Esthar had opened up its station again and began running lines through, and people were still, frankly, quite wary of the strange, secluded nation, despite the president’s efforts to open his city to the world.

Hauling his duffel up over his shoulder, Seifer looked around the small platform to see who was there to pick him up, and he spotted three pleasantly familiar faces - Fuujin, Raijin, and Kiros, one of the president’s aides. Seifer rather liked Kiros, although they’d only met a few times; he was always very cool and collected and he always seemed to know exactly what needed to be done. The gunblader breathed a silent sigh of relief that Laguna himself hadn’t come out to pick him up - even with his two best friends there as a buffer, Seifer wasn’t sure he could tolerate the president’s company without wanting to slice something up. Not that he _could_ \- Squall kept Hyperion under lock and key unless Seifer needed it for a mission or training, damn him - but the urge would no doubt lead him to do something unseemly.

He crossed the platform to join the trio, ignoring Raijin’s loud, exuberant, and highly unnecessary shouts of his name - as if he couldn’t see them; Rai himself was large enough to be a beacon in the middle of any crowd, and against the backdrop of the glaringly deserted station, his massive frame stood out like a bruise. Fuujin was standing back and to one side, looking as though she could think of nothing that would give her more pleasure than punching Raijin in the back of his head just then, and if she hadn’t been representing Garden and acting ambassador in a foreign country that didn’t look kindly on violence - especially from people who still, from time to time, had to struggle to convince the world that they were reformed after the war - Seifer was sure she would have punished him duly. He knew what she was thinking - the last thing they wanted to do was to call any unneeded attention to him; being a representation of all things sorceress related as he was, the people of Esthar didn’t exactly welcome Seifer with open arms. Kiros, on the other hand, looked entirely at ease, possibly even _amused_ , which led Seifer to believe that Fuu’s calm and collected air was a recent affectation, probably put on for his benefit, and he smiled. The lady was a viper marauding as a mouse; she was hardly fooling anybody, but Seifer wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that.

“Good to see some friendly faces,” he said dryly as he approached, and Fuujin graced him with a flash of a smile, turning her back to the other two men for the moment it took her to display it to him. Then she slipped her poker face back on like the well-fitting mask it was, offering him the standard-issue military greeting that befitted a representative of their institution, but for whose sake Seifer had no clue, since the station was empty save for the four of them. Raijin didn’t bother with such decorum; taking a few lumbering steps toward Seifer, he engulfed the blonde in a bear hug fit to crush the very breath out of him, until Fuu intervened with a swift, discreet kick in the leg. _It’s nice to know some things never change,_ Seifer thought to himself as he was grudgingly released, and he smirked as he righted himself, straightening the lapels of his coat.

“Seifer,” Kiros greeted him with a short bow, and Seifer returned the welcome with a somewhat haphazard salute. “It’s nice to have you back in Esthar.”

“You’re one of the few who would say that,” Seifer replied offhandedly. Fuujin, beside him, shot a glare up at him that suggested he keep his attitude in check, or he would be finding out just how little had changed when it came to the punishments she doled out. Clearing his throat, Seifer went on but slightly awkwardly, “what’ve you two been up to, then? How was the, err… conference?”

“Boring,” Raijin piped up, and Fuujin nudged him not gently in the stomach.

“Interesting,” she substituted, folding her hands behind her back and making a very good show of being demure, while her partner clutched his gut and wheezed for breath behind her. Despite himself, Seifer found a grin creeping up over his lips, a bubble of - could it be? Yes, it just might - _happiness_ swelling up in his core; truth was, he could never hide himself from Fuujin and Raijin, and being separated for such lengths of time from the two of them, the only two people in the world who really _knew_ him, had taken more of a toll on him than he ever thought if just seeing them for the first time in many months could inspire anything close to joy in him. Not that he felt the need to display those particular sentiments physically in the form of a great, big, sloppy hug, like some others; Fuu and Rai both knew how he felt toward them, and that was quite enough.

Fuujin was peering upward at him with one piercing, red eye. “And you? Keeping busy?” she asked in her usual placid tone of voice, which Seifer mentally translated as, “is Squall finally letting you do some real work, or still just dicking you around with pissy little nowhere missions?” And as the only real reason he had been sent to Esthar had less to do with him accompanying his two friends on their trip back and more to do with Quistis and Squall being sick of having him lurking around Garden all the time, he decided on going with a very generic affirmative as his answer for the sake of not provoking any retaliation on her part - she wouldn’t admit to doing it, but if she got wind that Squall and his cronies were causing Seifer any distress, Hyne help whoever got caught in the path of her vengeance.

“You know me, always busy,” he offered with a smile. She clearly wasn’t satisfied with this bluff of an answer, but she seemed to realize that out in public was not the place for them to be discussing his gripes with a certain commander and let the comment slip by - _for now_ , Seifer thought to himself. Kiros, standing off to the side, was looking between the two of them as if to inquire if they were through making small talk, and he stepped forward now, quietly clearing his throat.

“If you’re ready to head to the palace, the car is waiting,” he said mildly, gesturing behind him to the dark, shiny car that was idling just outside the entrance to the station. Seifer nodded and turned to confirm this assent with the other two, with Fuujin still visually probing him as if she were trying to read his thoughts, and the small group exited the terminal and boarded the chauffer-driven car. They took off in the direction of the Presidential suite, Fuu and Rai joining him in the expansive back seat while Kiros rode shotgun. Seifer relaxed a little while they were on the road, stretching out his legs, expecting his two companions to bombard him with questions about how Garden was treating him now that they had a degree of privacy, separated from Kiros and the driver by a darkly-tinted partition that the president’s aide had slid shut shortly after they departed from the train station. But apparently, whatever Fuujin had to say to him, she wasn’t going to risk saying until they could be assured complete privacy, because she wasn’t talking, merely staring at him as though trying to project her thoughts into his head, and Raijin, in his usual fashion, was chattering without end about every thought that crossed his mind.

He didn’t question it, thought - not just yet. Instead he reclined, kicking his legs up on the bench seat opposite him (and ignoring the look of scathing disdain he received from Fuu at this glaring breach of etiquette,) and closed his eyes, deciding to enjoy the reprieve while he had the chance. Hyne knows it never lasted long.

 

Zell glanced over at the clock on the mantle above his bed for the seventh time in the past minute, probably the seven hundredth time in the last hour, and he didn’t even want to think about how many times it had been since he’d woken up at the crack of dawn, some three and a half hours before. He wondered for a stupid moment if the clock wasn’t broken, because he could swear he’d been sitting at his computer desk for at least two days now; but of course time was going to seem to pass much more slowly if he was looking at the clock every five seconds. It was nearing nine a.m. - the library had been open for a good fifty minutes now, but Zell was expertly procrastinating at every conceivable productive thing he could possibly be doing. He chewed the end of his red pen, aimlessly shuffling the stack of papers he had meant to begin grading when he sat down but which remained as hopelessly ungraded as they had been for the whole of the week and would probably remain so for some time, if the state of turmoil his mind was currently in didn’t abate in the near future. 

Zell didn’t keep track of the library girls’ schedules, but he was pretty sure Carmina or Miri would be around on any given weekday morning - and if he wanted to get a bead on whatever rumors were currently in the air around Garden, they were the two to turn to. The library was the hub of Balamb Garden’s gossip engine, and Miri and Carmina were its queens.

Early on a weekday, it was pretty likely the library would be more deserted than not - that was to the good; whatever direction the conversation he was planning to have with Miri went, he’d rather it didn’t get overheard in any case. Or was he being too overcautious? There had been a foreboding sense of paranoia lingering over him for the past week, and it seemed as though people were staring at him a good deal more than they normally did, especially whenever Seifer was around, but maybe it was all in his head. Of course, Seifer had left for Esthar just yesterday, and the thought that he had a whole week without having to worry about the gunblader popping up somewhere nearby - and he _had_ been doing quite a lot of that over the last few days; randomly showing up in unexpected places almost as if specifically to catch Zell off guard - made Zell feel significantly better; the paranoia, however, still loitered around in the back of his mind somewhere, much in the same manner that Seifer himself loitered in the background wherever Zell went, not openly provoking him, but taunting him just by presence.

Maybe he was overthinking things - contrary to some people’s beliefs, it was something he did all too often. The only person, really, who had actually _said_ anything about this supposed rumor going around was Nida, and that a whole week ago - it just _seemed_ like there was something going on, that people were whispering, watching, waiting for him to give something away - which was certainly part of Quistis’ plan. Or maybe it was Seifer’s doing - trying to turn him against himself. _I sound like some kind of paranoid lunatic_ , he thought dismally to himself.

He stood up from the desk resolutely, throwing down his pen. It would have to be now or never - if he sat around much longer debating with himself whether or not people really believed he was sleeping with Seifer, he was going to lose his nerve. He tossed a hoodie over his head, ruffling the hair he hadn’t, for a rare once, bothered to style up, and at the last second on his way out the door, grabbed a random library book off the ever-growing stack of them next to his nightstand, just in case the girls wasn’t around and he needed some excuse at hand for dropping by.

The corridors were quiet as he strolled through the unusually empty school - until he remembered that it was nine a.m. in the middle of the week; most of the students would be in class or training sessions. This brightened Zell’s spirits somewhat, and he made it across Garden to the library with minimal encounters, finding it - to his great pleasure - just about empty; there was a lone underclassman studying assiduously in the back, but no one else save for the young woman crouched behind the counter stacking returns… the young woman with a long, dark ponytail… Zell paused in the entryway, somewhat hesitant; maybe he should just forget this and go back to his room - chances were good that he was just overthinking this whole deal and that there was no rumor in the first place; the residents of Garden certainly had better things to talk about than his love life, right? But it was too late to turn and leave now; Miri had just straightened up and looked right at him, flashing a cheery grin and waving him over, and over he did go, shifting a grin onto his face.

“Good morning, Zell!” she chirped sunnily. “You’re here early…?”

He held up his borrowed book as an excuse, and Miri nodded understandingly as she took it from him and scanned it back into the system, tucking it neatly into the cart of returns she had been organizing when Zell came in. “Carmina says you were looking for me last weekend?” she said perkily as she turned back toward him, her question effectively shooting down Zell’s plan of retreating from the library just as quickly as he’d come. He leaned against the counter, trying to appear cool and casual.

“Yeah, I dropped in…” He paused, thinking fast. “…I was going to ask about a book. But she helped me out fine.”

“Oh, okay,” she replied, grinning so brightly Zell wished he’d been wearing sunglasses. “Sorry about that, then, I convinced her to pick up my hours so I could visit my boyfriend…”

Zell nodded, attempting not to look as completely uninterested in the subject of Miri’s boyfriend as he really was. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone new,” he said after a short moment of silence, spurred on by the brunette’s obvious desire to tell him all about it, and not for the first time recently, Zell thought he was being too damn nice for his own good. Sure, it’s not like he and Miri had ever been particularly serious about their relationship, and they had managed to remain very good friends even after it went to pot, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear all the grisly details about her new beau, and judging by the blissful and obliviously rapturous grin on her pretty face, she was gearing up for a nice, long speech on just that subject.

She gave a dreamy sort of sigh, managing to look both wicked and bashful in the same instant as she said, “well… it’s a new development. Last weekend was our first date, actually, but it’s gone so well…”

“Mm-hmm,” Zell mumbled. _Of course_ it was going well - everyone was happy and in love except him, natch. Miri went on, euphorically unaware of Zell’s discomfort with the subject.

“I wish we didn’t have to leave FH so soon,” she said with a small pout. “I caught Nida yesterday morning, and he said we’re headed for Timber next, and I guess we’re going to stay in that area for quite a while…”

“Right,” Zell said, cutting in while she took a pause for breath. “Hey, err, you wouldn’t happen to know where Carmina is today, would you…?”

A small frown creased Miri’s delicate brow at this unexpected change of subject. “No, I picked up her shift today since she let me have that afternoon off last week, but I don’t know where she’s at…” She gave a sly half-smile, cocking an eyebrow at Zell with an expression he couldn’t quite make out. She added, her tone the very model of deviousness, “Why, did you come all the way down here just looking for her?”

“It’s not like… no…” Zell sighed, ruffling his hair agitatedly as he leaned against the counter. “I just… wanted to catch up on some gossip and, you know… whatever.”

Miri gave him a long stare for a moment, and Zell silently wished he had better verbal skills under pressure. She obviously wasn’t buying it. “You came down here to shoot gossip with Mina? Since when do you care about gossip?”

“I don’t, really, I just… I dunno,” Zell replied with a lame shrug. Miri was very clearly trying not to smirk at him as she organized some books on the countertop.

“Does this possibly have to do with some gossip I heard about _you_ this week?” she trilled.

Zell shrugged again, jaw clenched. He glanced around over his shoulder. “Okay, what have you heard?” he asked quietly. In response, Miri only started at him some more, but her grin had morphed into a worried frown.

“Zell, what’s going on? You look so serious. I was only joking,” she said, sounding concerned.

Zell looked around to make sure they were alone, and then said lowly, “can we go in the back and talk?” Miri nodded, looking a bit confused but understanding all the same as she waved him over toward a secluded corner in the rear of the library. They commandeered two plush chairs and sat secretively in the corner, and Zell pondered just how to phrase his quandary while she waited patiently.

“What exactly rumors are you hearing?” he began, scratching his chin.

“I don’t know, it’s just… It’s been going around that you’re seeing somebody in Garden…” she hummed in a sing-song voice, her tone thick with curiosity. “I admit I’ve been wondering about it myself…”

“Well, damn,” Zell muttered gravely under his breath. He should have known - rumors went through Garden faster than the damn flu. At least, to his immense relief, she’d made no mention of Seifer in the same breath, which could only be a good sign.

“So… it’s just a rumor?” Miri prompted.

“You sound disappointed?”

“Well,” She shrugged, cocking her head to the side. “I guess… I was thinking it would be nice if you had found someone… I admit, I was curious about it; I thought you might have mentioned something to me if you were seeing someone,” she finished, a bit peevish maybe.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” was Zell’s reply, as he thought about how to explain what had happened. “Quistis thinks I am, but… it’s stupid, honestly. This person, last weekend, got really drunk and ended up barging into my room and, y’know, staying. Not like, I mean, nothing happened, but, well, Quistis found out, and she _thinks_ that something happened, and… now this. So.” He finished wearily, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Miri was staring.

“Are you… talking about Seifer?” Miri asked uncertainly.

“What… how’d you…?”

“I mean, Seifer’s the only person I know who gets so stupid drunk at the graduation banquet that he’d go barging into someone else’s room,” she explained, but she looked a bit skeptical still. “You mean that’s really what you’re talking about? Quistis thinks _you and Seifer_ have something going on?”

“Well, I guess,” Zell said defeatedly, running his hands through his hair. “I mean… I dunno. What have you heard?”

Miri shook her head, her ponytail swinging around her neck. “I’ve been hearing mostly even bets between Mina and me,” she admitted, grinning a little. “As far as Seifer, no, I haven’t heard a thing about him. I think he’s the last person in the world anyone would try and picture you being with, honestly.”

“But I’m not with anybody!” Zell cried, forgetting for a moment where he was - thankfully, the library was their own now; the one solitary cadet who had been studying in the far corner when he arrived had long since left, and Zell was eternally grateful for it. Lowering his voice, he went on, “Alright, whatever, I don’t really care about everyone else - Quistis is the one I need to convince I’m not fucking Seifer. How the hell do I do that?”

Miri gave a gentle sigh, shrugging again, reclining in her chair as she adopted a thoughtful expression. “Mina always says there’s two ways to defuse a rumor: either prove it true, or prove it false.”

“Well, how the fuck do I do either of those?!” Zell groaned in frustration, throwing his hands into the air. How did one go about proving a rumor like that false? Going around denying it would only make matters worse, and Zell was fairly certain that he would have no help whatsoever from Seifer on that ground - hell, the gunblader would likely try and make things worse just out of spite. Zell supposed he could try and find a girlfriend, but Quistis would only think it was a cover up (and it would be one, too.) There was still the chance that if he simply went to Quistis and explained the whole thing, she’d admit she was mistaken and that would be it - but it was true that Seifer was on the rocks with her and Squall lately, and if his drunken exploits turned out to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, Zell was afraid he would carry out his threat to take the martial artist down with him… plus, there was the matter of the lying he’d already done to cover up Seifer’s presence in his room; and with his luck, Quistis would only be _more_ convinced that he was trying to hide something between them. Going to her would have to be Plan B.

“Um,” Miri said, interrupting Zell’s whirling thoughts as she sat forward, a small grin playing her lips. “If you don’t mind… Is it really that bad?”

Zell shook his head. “Is what?”

“Quistis thinking… you know.” It took him a moment to realize what she meant, but he hardly had time to be horrified by the idea that people thinking him and Seifer were fucking was even _remotely_ okay before Miri hurriedly added, “I mean, it’s not like… Seifer’s not really attractive, in his own way…”

“I don’t give a shit if he’s the fucking hottest guy in Garden, it’s _Seifer,_ ” Zell hissed, and heat flooded into his cheeks as he realized he’d just admitted he found Seifer hot - what the hell was _wrong_ with him lately? - but Miri didn’t seem to have noticed it; she was looking somewhat apologetic, and appeared to have realized her mistake, shrugging sheepishly.

“I’m just saying. I don’t like the guy, I think he’s a total dick, but… I mean, given the chance, _I_ wouldn’t say no.”

“Listen, I know what you mean,” Zell cut in, holding up a hand to silence her, his head spinning. _Fuck, did I really just say I would do Seifer if given the chance?_ “If it was anybody else in the Garden, I wouldn’t really care. I’d just let the stupid rumors die out. It’s just…”

He stopped, drawing a complete blank on how to continue. What was he even trying to say? The problem was not just that it was Seifer they were talking about, but he was a fellow SeeD, a fellow _man_ … any one of the above, Garden administration might have been willing to overlook, but certainly not all three, especially from an instructor, someone who was supposed to be a role model… He groaned in irritation, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Miri was watching him with considerable concern, and when he looked up, she offered him her most reassuring smile - a good effort, but it hardly made him feel better at this point. Hell, short of Seifer spontaneously combusting or Quistis admitting that she was wrong about something - both occurrences that weren’t going to happen in a million years - nothing was going to make him feel better. He sighed.

“The problem is,” he began to explain, slumping down in his chair wearily, “Seifer’s on thin ice right now with administration, and if I tell them what really happened, they’re going to kick him out, and he’s made it clear that he’ll be dragging me down with him if that happens. Otherwise I would just go explain what really fucking happened, that he got trashed and passed out on my bathroom floor” He paused for a moment, and then gave a weak little laugh, rubbing his tired eyes. “I think, for some reason, he _wants_ people to think we’re fucking. Like he wants to make it worse…”

“Weeelll…” Miri started, but trailed off in defeat, clearly at as much of a loss as Zell himself was in the face of this information. Then, hesitantly, she proffered, “are you sure you’re not overestimating Seifer?”

“What do you mean?”

The brunette paused again before speaking, giving a slight grimace, as though she was wary Zell wouldn’t like what she had to say, but after a moment she began, “it seems to me like… although he doesn’t like being here… I don’t think Seifer really wants to _leave_ … so it stands to reason that he’d want to keep this whole thing quiet just as much as you do…” she tapered off again, and Zell prompted her on with a pointed stare, sitting up in his chair. Shaking her head, she finished, “did you consider that he might just be bluffing?”

Zell thought about it for a minute. “But why? What’s the point?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he has some hidden agenda. Don’t ask me to try and explain Seifer’s mind,” she gave a short laugh, and then a heavy sigh. “It just seems like this is a lot of work for him to go through without having _some_ kind of other motive.”

“Yeah… tormenting me,” Zell whined, falling back in his seat, defeated. For what other reason did Seifer ever do anything? The gunblader had been keeping a low profile for the past four years; he had to make a return to bullying sometime, and he’d chosen a damn fine to do it, too. What other motive could he have for being such a jackass?

A bell chimed in the distance, and Miri leaped to her feet. “Shit,” She exclaimed, grabbing her armchair and shoving it back under the desk she’d stolen it from. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Sorry, Zell, I’ve gotta get back to work,” she explained, shooing him out of his seat and across the library, hands aflutter. “Listen… if you come up with anything, be sure to let me know, alright sweetie?”

She flashed him a cheerful smile as she backed him into the doorway, and then promptly pushed him out into the throng of students surging down the corridor before he could even open his mouth to utter a reply. He fought for a moment against the tide before letting it sweep him away down the hall, and he wandered aimlessly through the current for a while as all the students milled their way to their next classes, his mind thick with thoughts. The talk with Miri hadn’t produced a solution of any kind to Zell’s predicament, but it had helped him to think a little clearer all the same - and given him some surprising insight into his own image of Seifer; he had never, for instance, even considered the idea that Seifer might have been bluffing or that he might have some other motive besides the obvious of making Zell suffer. That line of thought certainly deserved a little more deliberation, he decided, but not just now; some other time, when his mind was easier and he could spend some real time ruminating on it. Trying to attempt any serious thinking with the state his head was in right now just wasn’t going to pan out; he needed to get moving, to work out some of this restless energy first, and there was, of course, only one place to do that.

_Still no plan, though_ , Zell thought grimly to himself as he redirected toward the training center, weaving through the thinning crowd of students to make his way around the campus. Oh well - he did still have a few days to prepare before Seifer returned from Esthar, and if worst came to worst and he was still drawing a blank by then, he supposed he could always fall back on his old standby, and beat the truth out of Seifer - although the repercussions that line of action promised were somewhat worrying, so that would have to be the last resort. In the meantime, he’d just have to do his best to stay out of Seifer’s way and not give the gunblader any ammunition that could end up backfiring on him later… sounded good in theory, but could he successfully pull it off? _Well, no use worrying about it right now,_ he thought resolutely, _just have to wait and see what happens…_


	5. Chapter 5

“Alright. Uh-huh.” Quistis nodded, mostly to herself as the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see it, squinting up into the midday sun. “Understood. See you,” she finished, snapping shut the mobile phone with a quiet sigh. She tossed her hair into the warm, salty breeze sweeping in over the beach, and then turned around and ambled lazily across the boardwalk to the pavilion where a cluster of little tables sat under a lopsided awning, pulling out a wicker chair across from the other young woman waiting there. “Well, they should be arriving within the hour. Nida’s just made contact with the advance from Timber.”

“Right on schedule,” Rinoa hummed, sipping from a tall glass of lemonade. She gave a contented sort of sigh, leaning back in her seat. “Good old Nida.”

Quistis laughed. “Good old Xu is what you mean, right? That boy would never get anything accomplished without her there kicking his ass to do it.”

“Yeah, true,” the brunette chuckled in response, casting her gaze out over the promenade, a few dozen other locals sitting out at the various cafes and restaurants that dotted the pier and enjoying the weather. Her eyes lingered on the small gang of toddlers kicking around a weathered ball in the surf. Smiling fondly to herself, she went on, “I guess some things will never change, no matter how long I’m away.”

The instructor offered an appreciative chuckle, and they both lapsed into silence. Quistis spun her phone round on the tabletop idly. She had never felt particularly close to Rinoa - not as close as she felt to the rest of their gang, with the bond that they all shared - and she couldn’t be entirely comfortable knowing just how much unseen power lurked beneath the other girl’s airy exterior, kept in check only by a few skillfully crafted trinkets of Odine’s. Not to mention she’d always found Rinoa somewhat, well, annoying - although, despite the little she’d seen of the young sorceress over the past few years, she could tell that Rinoa had matured a great deal in that time - both circumstances that didn’t much encourage any affection on the blonde’s end. However, she was beginning to regret that she hadn’t made any effort toward friendship in those years now, as she sat in awkward silence with the other girl, racking her brain for a conversation topic. Awkward silence was Quistis’ Achilles heel, and she was no good at forced smalltalk, either. Luckily, just a few moments after she had given up, Rinoa spoke again, sitting forward but with her eyes still lingering on the group of children playing on the beach below.

“So… how’s the gang?” She chirped, her question laced with the merest hint of forced jollity, which Quistis cheerily ignored - she couldn’t, after all, fault Rinoa for not liking her when she herself had spent the better part of the past five years more or less forgetting the fact that Rinoa existed.

“The gang?” she repeated quizzically. Rinoa cocked her head to one side, thoughtful.

“You know. Everyone,” the brunette shrugged. “Squall?”

Quistis gave a soft chuckle. “You probably talk to him more often than I do, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not like he really… like… _tells_ me stuff. You know how it is,” Rinoa said, heaving an exasperated sigh, and Quistis’ smile widened just a bit. Yes, she knew how it was - and it was somewhat refreshing to find that even Rinoa hadn’t managed to break Squall of his reticence; it was reassuring, somehow, to know that his gruffness was universal and not exclusively directed toward her and Xu, even if it sometimes felt that way.

“And, what, you think he’d tell me stuff?”

“Well… no,” the sorceress laughed, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her eyes. “I guess not. I’m curious what he gets up to at Garden without me, though. Any time when I ask him about work, all he says is ‘Garden’s affairs are none of my concern’,” Rinoa said, pulling a scowl and doing a grouchy imitation of Squall. A pretty good one, too, Quistis had to admit.

“Well, he works hard… probably too hard, I suppose… but that’s in his nature,” Quistis remarked, and Rinoa rolled her eyes, with an expression that suggested she fully agreed.

“Well, as long as things are running smoothly, I guess?”

Quistis shrugged. “As smoothly as they ever have, I suppose. All the students really look up to Squall, though, so there are never any serious problems.” She paused thoughtfully. “Except…”

“Hmm?”

“No, nothing.” _Except Seifer_ , the instructor thought to herself, but she shook her head and Rinoa seemed content to drop it. It wasn’t really an appropriate subject between them, anyway - just something that had been on Quistis’ mind lately… indeed, something she hadn’t been able to get _off_ her mind for quite some time. It’s not like she was exactly worried, or anything, but there was definitely a note of concern to be had, which was one of the reasons she had suggested letting Seifer go to Esthar for a few days, hoping that a brief vacation might just cheer the gunblader up a bit - Hyne knows she wasn’t the only person who was sick of seeing him brooding around the Garden in that perpetually gloomy state of his. Not that Seifer had ever been a particularly cheery sort of person, of course, but after his return at the end of the war, his depression had more or less plateaued, until a month or so ago when his mood seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. And if Quistis wasn’t worried about Seifer’s mental health, she could at least be worried about the safety of the rest of Garden; docile as he’d been over the past few years, she wasn’t entirely certain he was to be trusted.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Seifer really _was_ doing at Garden… she’d assumed he only came back after the war ended because he had no place else to return to, but it was painfully obvious that he didn’t _want_ to be there, so why stay? _Because no one else will have him_ , she concluded glumly - that was one of the reasons Squall had in the end decided to give him a place in Garden; the other was mainly a security issue - damage limitation, as the commander had so diplomatically put it - Seifer needed to be kept under supervision, he needed to be somewhere neutral, where he wouldn’t be condemned for his past actions, so that maybe he could heal and grow. At least, that’s what Quistis tended to tell herself; the bottom line was that as long as Seifer was going to refuse to cooperate with their efforts to rehabilitate him, he was going to remain a prisoner of Garden, and that would certainly make anyone depressed, wouldn’t it?

But lately… Quistis sighed, her thoughts turning over and over in her mind. Lately, something was going on. She was sure of it. Seifer was up to something - and Zell was in on it, whatever it was. She didn’t honestly think the two of them were sleeping together - the very idea was too strange to even consider - but they were most definitely hiding something, and she was going to find out what it was if it killed her.

“Selphie?” Rinoa interrupted her train of thought suddenly with this inquiry, and it took Quistis a minute to return to reality. She shook her head to try and clear her mind, as if to dispel any thoughts of Seifer and Zell and any schemes they might be plotting behind her back, and tried to focus on what Rinoa was saying now - what was she saying again?

“Sorry?”

“I asked how Selphie was doing?” the brunette repeated.

“Oh,” Quistis blinked. “Fine, last I heard. You know how she is, never a bad day.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Rinoa laughed. “Well, what about Zell?”

“He’s…” the instructor stopped, frowning. She had been about to say that he was fine, but now that she put some thought into it, she was fairly certain that he wasn’t. The last few times she’d seen him, he had looked distinctly melancholy, despite the valiant effort he put into keeping up a front. Was it possible that that had something to do with Seifer, as well?

“He’s not fine?” Rinoa prompted when she failed to continue. Quistis bit the corner of her lip in misgiving.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” she said with a short chuckle, giving a shrug. “Now I think about it, out of all of our little group of friends, Zell is the person I see the most, and yet he’s the one about whom I know the least.”

“But that’s not your fault,” the young sorceress replied. Quistis cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at this declaration, and Rinoa added in explanation, “well, Zell keeps things pretty close to heart, doesn’t he? Personal things, that is.”

“I… I suppose he does that, yeah. I never…”

Rinoa sipped her lemonade, sitting back in her chair, dark hair fluttering in the warm breeze. “It took me a while to figure him out. He seems like he’s very open, doesn’t he? Always acting real cheerful and cool.” She stirred the melting mass of ice cubes in the bottom of the glass with her straw. “But the things that really bother him, he keeps them hidden. He’s very guarded, don’t you think?”

_No, I never had thought,_ Quistis agonized to herself, but she drew out a tepid smile. “Yes, that’s true. I just wish I _did_ know what was wrong. I haven’t the heart to ask him outright and ruin all that hard work he’s put into appearing cheery.”

Rinoa gave a small, bubbly chuckle. “So there is something wrong?”

“I think there is.” A quiet pause. “I think he’s lonely, actually, but it’s not really my place to…”

“It’s not? Why not?” the brunette scratched her arm absently, finally breaking her gaze from the troop of toddlers playing down on the sand to meet Quistis’ eyes full on. “You’re his friend, aren’t you?”

Quistis was silent, biting down on her lower lip in lieu of an answer. She was that, wasn’t she? It had been a long time since she’d last thought of Zell as a friend - a coworker, a colleague, a fellow SeeD, yes, but when had she last been a _friend_ to him? _No wonder I don’t know shit about his personal life,_ she thought morosely. She sighed softly, but before she could even begin to offer up an explanation for this heinous error of judgement on her part, Rinoa sat forward, leaning over the table with a coy smile on her pink lips, and she said, “Listen, there’s going to be a big party on the boardwalk tomorrow night. I’m helping to host it. Why don’t you bring Zell along? There’ll be lots of SeeDs coming, and it might cheer him up a bit… and if all else fails, you can get him drunk and try to force the truth out of him. What do you say?”

The instructor frowned, a note of censure in her tone as she began, “Well… I dunno…” She mulled it over momentarily, weighing her distaste for such unseemly behavior as going to beach parties and getting drunk against her liking for the idea of getting Zell out of the Garden and meeting new people (and possibly squeezing some information out of him after he’d had a few.) The chance was certainly not likely to come up again any time soon - Garden events were generally quite formal; nobody had fun at those parties, and being an instructor, Quistis didn’t tend to get invited to any of the students’ illegal, after-hours keggers. And after all, who ever said a teacher couldn’t break the rules and have some fun every once in a while?

“Dana! Goddamnit!” Rinoa jumped up from her seat, striding over to the edge of the boardwalk and leaning out over the railing. “I told you not to go out into the water like that! Get back here!”

The little redheaded girl giggled, scooping up her ball from the water and trudging back toward the rest of the group, while Rinoa watched, snorting in mild frustration. Quistis bit back a smirk as the brunette, satisfied that her young charges were minding her warning and staying out of the water, returned to her seat, rolling her eyes. “I swear, those kids. They won’t listen to anyone except Clara. Drives me fucking nuts. I don’t know why I’m stuck watching them, they like Zone _way_ more than me.”

“Mmm,” Quistis hummed, pursing her lips to disguise a smile, but Rinoa wasn’t watching her in any case. She rose from her chair and pushed it neatly back under the table, gathering her handbag from the deck by her feet and tucking her phone into one of the pockets. “Well, listen, I’ve got to head back into town, I have to be there when Garden arrives and they probably won’t be more than a half hour. Can I give you a lift back?”

Rinoa shook her head, swiping flyaway strands of dark hair out of her eyes as she peered up at the other woman. “Hm, no, I’ve got to keep the kids out all day. The Owls are having a meeting at Clara’s house, and I’m stuck playing babysitter,” she scoffed, as if she thought it was ridiculous that the leader of a principal resistance group should be reduced to watching a bunch of toddlers - not that any of the factions that were still around had much to do in Timber anymore; since the Galbadian forces had been removed from the city over two years before, their work mostly entailed quarterly meetings with Galbadian officials to ensure that things stayed that way. Quistis only smiled, twirling her key ring around and around on her finger.

“Well, I guess we’ll see you tomorrow night, then?”

“Oh!” Rinoa stood up, her spirits visibly brightened. “You mean you’ll actually come?”

“You sound like you’re expecting me to flake out.”

“Well, I…” the brunette shrugged. “I didn’t figure you’d go for the whole beach party thing. It doesn’t really go with your image, does it?”

“Hmm, well… maybe I’m going for a new image,” Quistis said, casting a cheeky smile at the other woman, who burst out into laughter, and still hadn’t stopped when Quistis decided to walk away.

 

“I don’t suppose you plan on telling me what the fuck you’re up to.”

Seifer barely glanced up from the very bland novel he’d been pretending to read while they waited for the train. “Fuujin, my dear, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmmmm,” she nodded, stretching her disbelief out into two long syllables. “Tell me why I don’t buy that.”

“Paranoia?”

“You’ve been acting weird the whole time you’ve been here,” she went on, swinging her foot impatiently, gearing up for what Seifer predicted was going to be a long, loud nag. “Spacing out… I dunno… _smiling_ …”

“I’m not allowed to be happy?” he interrupted, shutting the book. He didn’t even know what it was, had just grabbed it off a pile in his room before he left, but it was obvious Fuujin wasn’t going to let this go, so there was no point in continuing to feign interest in reading. She stared at him with one red eye, her gaze promising violence if he didn’t cut the bullshit.

“You’re not happy. You’re…” she trailed off with a frustrated sort of sound. “Gleeful. Devious, even. You’re plotting something, and I want to know what it is.”

“ _Why_ do you need to know?” Seifer countered, staring out past the terminal at the ocean beyond. His companion clucked her tongue.

“So I can decide what I need to do. Try and stop you, try and help you, or stay the fuck out of it.”

“Well, if you want my advice,” he began, but Fuujin cut him off short.

“Damnit, Seifer, don’t be glib,” she snipped, tossing her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t forget that I do outrank you now.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re pulling rank on me?” Seifer sat forward, all traces of humor vanished. Narrowing his eyes, he went on quietly, “Even if I am _plotting_ , it has nothing to do with you. So I suggest what you do is just stay the fuck out of it.”

He sat back, and they both were silent for a few minutes as the sound of a train clattering in the distance gradually moved closer. Fuujin pursed her lips, and said, at length, “I’ll find out sooner or later, you know. You can’t keep silent forever.”

“Hm,” Seifer grunted in response, studying his fingernails. He glanced up. “Speaking of silent, what’s Raijin’s deal? He was all chatterbox when I got here, but hasn’t said two words to me at once the past few days,” the gunblader frowned, peering down to the far end of the bench where Fuu’s partner was dozing, his head lolling to one side. She frowned deeply, clearly not thrown off by Seifer’s skillful evasion of the subject she’d been pursuing.

Eventually, she shrugged, and answered, “every time we go abroad, I threaten that if he says anything stupid or incriminating, I’ll Silence him. He’s been heeding it rather well after the first few times, I gotta say.”

“I should have guessed,” Seifer sighed with a disinterested nod. That was patently the sort of thing Fuujin would do if she felt that anything, say, a careless comment at the expense of a foreign leader, should threaten her cushy job. Seifer snickered at the mental image of Raijin cowering from a chakra-wielding Fuu - not a novel idea, by any means; he’d always been afraid of Fuujin (well, weren’t they all?) but it had never stopped him from acting like a moron before, and Seifer felt a small surge of pride on his best friend’s behalf for having finally found something that worked to curb her partner’s propensity for blurting things out without thinking about them first. She did not, however, appear to appreciate this any, still giving him the stony eye, clearly not about to give up her henpecking just when she’d got started.

“Yes, it’s working quite well,” she went on pointedly, seeming nonchalant although Seifer knew she was anything but. “I’m considering adapting the strategy for other situations as well - many people, for instance, can be goaded into giving up information under threat of Pain…”

“First you pull rank on me, and now you’re threatening me?” The gunblader snorted. “And here I thought the world had turned upside down, but you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I’m offering you my help here, Seifer.” she replied quite softly, folding her arms across her chest and staring away at the train that was rolling to a stop at the end of the platform. “If you don’t want it, fine, but I’m offering it all the same. I’ve stuck with you through a lot of things, and whatever you’re scheming now I’m sure I can handle. So.”

Seifer was pensive. “Ah, the guilt trip. That concludes the trifecta of manipulation, am I right?”

“You know what? Fine. I don’t give a shit what you do,” Fuujin announced tersely, standing from the bench and staring determinedly away from Seifer, clearly angry with him, but he knew it wouldn’t last long, it never did - Fuujin’s anger was like a gale; wild and destructive, but brief. She kicked Raijin viciously on the shin, and he awoke with a yelp, quickly wilting when he saw his partner towering over him with the look of death in her eyes. She turned, shooting Seifer with a sharp, piercing glare, and added, “but don’t you ask for my help later when you end up fucking yourself over, Seifer. I’m going to fucking enjoy watching you make an ass out of yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will, Fuu,” Seifer replied calmly, rising from his seat as the three of them made their way over to the train, waiting for the small crowd of passengers exiting the platform to dissipate, Fuujin stalking ahead of the other two, Raijin limping behind alternately hopping on his good leg and massaging what was sure to be a brilliant bruise on the other. “I’m quite sure you will.”

 

 

“Hey, don’t I know you?”

Zell jumped in surprise, clutching his plastic cup of beer to his chest as it threatened to spill. _Holy fuck, where did she come from?_ he wondered, eyeing up the young girl in a cobalt tube top who had just appeared seemingly from nowhere in front of him, a drink in each hand, two strawberry blonde pigtails bobbing up and down as she bounced. She didn’t look familiar to him, and she certainly wasn’t one of his students. He hoped she wasn’t one of Rinoa’s ditzy friends sent round to try and hook him; she’d been directing girls his way all night long, for what purpose he couldn’t fathom (besides simply to satiate her need to interfere in everyone else’s business, hopeless snoop that she was,) but it was sure getting annoying. However, in response, he simply said, “Sorry? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Your name’s Zell, right?” She chirped, sparkly pink lips stretched into a tipsy grin as she wavered from side to side, her feet sliding in the sand. Zell swallowed a sigh. “No, I mean, you don’t know me, I… but I know _you_ ,” she went on. “You fought against the sorceress, didn’t you?”

He gave a short nod, taking a drink of his beer. The girl gave a small whoop of laughter, waving one of her drinks at him excitedly. “I thought it was you! I’m from Galbadia Garden, I was there when you guys fought her! I was an underclassman then, so, like, they would let us go in the fight, you know, the invasion. But I remember seeing you. I’m Nelthilta, by the way,” she ended with a slightly drunken titter, and then drained one of her drinks, tossing the cup behind her into the dunes so that she could extend a now-free hand to Zell, who took it reluctantly, forcing a smile.

“Nice to meet you…” he mumbled, and she chuckled again, appearing to be completely smitten with him - _wonderful_ , he grumbled to himself, _just what I need, drunken girls falling all over me._ Really, how shameless could Rinoa be? And where the hell was Quistis when he needed her? If anyone could scare away all these bimbos simply by being at his side, it would be his fellow instructor, but she had vanished almost immediately after they had arrived at the party, despite the hours she had spent earlier that morning goading him into going to it. He wanted to go look for her so that he could leave already, but the thought of the scolding he would surely receive for disappearing without her was beginning to look like a sunny stroll in the park compared to having to stand around here any longer, drinking piss-warm beer and waiting for Rinoa to run out of friends to send over his way. Nelthilta was teetering from side to side, watching him blearily.

“I think I’ll have this,” Zell declared, plucking the drink out of the poor girl’s hand and dumping it in the sand. She gave a hugely exaggerated pout, now completely divested of alcohol.

“I _was_ drinking that.”

“Yes, well, you’ve had about enough,” he said gently. She didn’t appear to be particularly angry with him, however, and suddenly leaned in close to his ear, her long, soft hair sweeping over his shoulder.

“Hmm, you know…” she murmured, placing a hand on his chest for balance as she swayed in the sand. “My friends and me rented a hotel room in town, but, umm, they’re all, y’know, out right now… so maybe you could, like, help me find my way back?”

“Uhh…” Zell faltered. Was she proposing what he thought she was proposing? _Don’t be a dolt, Zell, of course she is,_ he mentally berated himself. He backed away a few steps, shoes sliding in the dry sand, and Nelthilta pitched forward without anything to lean against, catching herself just in time to keep from going face first into the side of the dune. Zell stammered, tossing about for a reply; she was obviously expecting a favorable one - wait, why the hell was he even thinking twice about it? This should be a no-brainer, just say sure, head on back to her room, and spend the night having hot, delicious, drunk sex with a very pretty girl. Hell, wasn’t this exactly what he had been looking for for the past week?

Nelthilta was certainly pretty, petite with a sylphlike face and pale green eyes, slender limbs and one hell of a rack. As far as looks went, she was just what he usually went for and more. But something about her, Zell couldn’t even begin to place what, but something appealed to him on a deeper, more subtle level - and he had a feeling it had little to do with prettiness. It was something, he thought briefly, something more latent, and he couldn’t quite grasp it yet. She was too… too… familiar…

“Oh, shit,” he moaned as he suddenly realized what dark, appalling thought was lurking at the back of his mind, and he all but leapt backward from the confused young girl, who tumbled into the sand with a yelp. It couldn’t be. No, that was too messed up even for Zell, who considered himself only slightly better off than Squall in terms of messed-up-in-the-head-ness lately, to be thinking. There were plenty of viable reasons not to sleep with this girl, besides the fact that she was roaring drunk and, Zell was inclined to suspect, not particularly of age - if she’d been an underclassman four and a half years ago, she would _barely_ be eighteen now, if that. But despite the fact that, even if this girl was a legal adult, it would still be exceedingly wrong to sleep with her given the circumstances, there was a small part of him that wanted very much to, even as he realized where he had seen eyes like hers before.

She was making an effort to climb to her feet now, her front crusted with sand which she attempted to dislodge from her cleavage with awkward swipes. “What the,” she began, pausing to hiccough as she gave a small sob, “fuck d’you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he stammered, backing away. “I, um, I can’t…”

“Damn right you can’t!” she barked back, stumbling in the other direction, but making little headway as she continued to lose her balance in the unyielding sand. “You can fucking forget about it, fucking jerk!” she shouted back over her shoulder, snuffling as she clumsily made her way down the dune. Zell stood rooted in place, lost for words. _Well, at least she’s leaving_ , he mused bitterly.

“Nelly!”

“Oh, thank fuck you’re here,” Zell breathed in relief as Rinoa came jogging up, beelining to intercept her inebriated friend, and shooting a half-curious, half-peeved glance up at him on the way. She laced an arm around Nelthilta’s shoulder, speaking softly to the young girl as she led her away toward the bulk of the party, leaving her in the care of a group of girls relaxing around a bonfire. The brunette then spun around and shot straight back up the beach, charging toward Zell, but he had already turned and fled the other way - not quickly enough, however; she caught up with him at the drinks table, her dark eyes promising unpleasantness.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Zell?” she crowed, looking only slightly angry on her friend’s behalf, and more like she was only irritated that he’d run away from her - not many people dared. She went on, “you made Nelthilta cry!”

“Well, where do you get off sending all your dopey girlfriends over to me like I’m some kinda fuckin’ charity case, anyway?” he spat back, ladling punch (or what looked like punch, at least,) into a plastic cup. Rinoa’s glare sharpened, and then melted again, and she leaned against the rickety table, lithe arms folded over her chest.

“First of all, I didn’t _send_ Nel anywhere - I don’t know where she came from and I ran over to try and distract her as soon as I saw she was bugging you,” the young sorceress began to explain, her tone a bit too miffed for Zell’s liking - he never did like knowing he was the cause of someone else’s annoyance, especially Rinoa, who, though perhaps a bit flakey, had always been a fairly sweet girl. He took a swig of his punch (which, judging by the taste, was approximately nine parts liquor to every one part juice, but that certainly wasn’t going to stop him from downing it,) and he was trying to think of some kind of witty retort to serve back at the piqued little brunette, when she continued, “and pardon me for being worried about you! You looked like you were having a terrible time, so I just thought I’d-”

“Meddle?” Zell interjected, stopping her short in the middle of her tirade. She gave a slight pout.

“Listen, I’m not the only one who’s concerned,” she defended herself, at least having the grace to look sheepish as she stared determinedly away from Zell. “Quistis is afraid you’re lonely.”

“Yeah, she’s even worse than you when it comes to that whole meddling thing.”

“Now, this is just what I mean,” Rinoa said, a note of exasperation lacing her would-be nonchalant tone, and she peered over at the blond through her eyelashes. “I know we don’t see much of each other anymore, but even I can tell there’s something off about you. You’ve never yelled at me before.”

“Well, I’ve never been as annoyed with you as I am now,” he replied flippantly, but it was only after they’d both gone silent again that her words fully sunk in, and they stung more than he’d expected they would - if even Rinoa, whom he only saw for any length of time once every few months, if that, could tell that he wasn’t feeling himself, then who knew what Quistis or anyone else had figured out by now? Was he just completely giving himself away? Perhaps Rinoa was simply more perceptive than his other friends - no, the idea just wouldn’t keep. He must have looked as dejected as he suddenly felt, because her expression went very soft, and she gave him an encouraging sort of pat on the shoulder, a touching - if slightly awkward - gesture.

“Well,” she began at length, snapping a cheerful face on as quickly and easily as slipping into a new tee-shirt. “You’re welcome to come to me any time you feel like spilling the beans - I know you _won’t,_ ” she then added, and Zell had to give a little chuckle only because it was true. “But I’m just putting it out there. I know you’ve got to be careful with what kind of stuff gets out in a place like Garden, especially with you being an instructor. I can’t imagine you have anyone you can really confide in there…”

“No shit…” Zell sighed in response, finishing off his punch and turning to fill the cup again. Only after he’d guzzled half of it down did he begin to wonder if maybe Rinoa wasn’t just what he was looking for - an impartial observer, a bystander; a friend to whom he could divulge certain things that just weren’t tolerated at a military academy. Except for the fact that she was dating Squall, and Zell didn’t know how tight they were… she seemed like the kind of girlfriend who would tell him everything about everything, no matter that he probably didn’t give a shit. Besides, what would he even tell? _Well, Rinoa, I feel like I’m going batshit insane with paranoia lately, and oh yeah, I’ve been having lots of homoerotic thoughts about a guy I’ve spent a good part of my life hating with a vengeance, have you any advice for me?_ That was sure to go over well.

“Zell?” She prompted after a few long moments of silence, the quiet punctuated by the breaking of waves over the sand and the dull roar of the winding-down party they’d left behind. Zell mused over his punch, declining to answer. Rinoa had once dated Seifer, a brief chapter of her life which she declared to this day had been merely the result of a silly teenage fancy (although she was no longer a teenager, but only marginally less silly.) She might understand - there was something about him, a sort of charisma, that made attraction impossible to resist, and Zell was only now beginning to realize and accept its presence.

“It’s really nothing big,” he replied eventually, forcing an acceptable amount of nonchalance into his voice and hoping that it would fool the young sorceress, but he couldn’t read anything of her expression in the dim flickering glow of the firelight. He shrugged and continued, “but I appreciate the offer all the same. And I’m sorry I was short with you.”

“Oh, please!” she chuckled, slapping him hard on the shoulder. “That’s already forgotten. I just want to be sure you’re alright.”

“I’ve already said, it’s nothing,” he reiterated, cracking a weak grin as Rinoa nodded and smiled and then excused herself back to the party that was tapering off further up on the beach, leaving him mercifully alone for the first time that night. He gnawed pensively on the corner of his lip as he watched her go, pale yellow sundress billowing out in the breeze. _At least,_ he thought to himself, a grim smile creeping over his lips, _it’s nothing a few more cups of punch can’t fix…_

 

 

Seifer tossed away the stub of his second-to-last cigarette into the grass and was contemplating lighting up that last one when he began to hear someone approaching, and he sat up, cursing quietly to himself, to find someplace to hide; he’d taken a big chance hiding out right outside the main entrance to Garden, but since all the other open-air areas of the school were guarded at night, he’d had little choice - and considering that this was the first time he’d heard any sign of another human being passing by in the hour or so he’d been laying there in the grass, he felt pretty lucky. But at this time of night, this intrusion upon his solitude could only be Garden faculty or a security guard making rounds, and he certainly didn’t need to be caught red-handed committing a double felony - smoking on school grounds and being out-of-bounds in the middle of the night. He swept the half dozen cigarette butts littering the ground around him into a nearby flower bed, and then crouched behind a clump of bushes, taking great care not to be visible from the entryway.

_What would my posse say if they saw the once-great Seifer Almasy, hiding behind a bush like some kind of juvenile delinquent?_ he thought bitterly to himself.

The footsteps coming up the path were getting closer, but slower - and uneven, sometimes shuffling and stumbling, and Seifer sighed. So it wasn’t a faculty member, just some drunk student trying to sneak back in the middle of the night instead of doing the sensible thing and waiting until morning, when it would be easy to blend in among the rush of kids and teachers going back and forth to town. He almost left his hiding spot, annoyed that he’d had to do something so undignified as to squat behind a bush to avoid being caught, but then decided to stay put; it was still better to go unseen, even if whoever was staggering around out there was so tanked they couldn’t even see properly, let alone identify him.

He waited impatiently for a few long minutes, fighting against the urge to just peek his head out and see who the poor soul was - what could it hurt, really? He peered through the branches, smirking to himself at the unfortunate individual who was now trying with admirable determination to navigate the stairs, clinging to the railing for dear life. Seifer stared; something was familiar about that student… except it wasn’t a student at all, it was…

“Chicken-wuss?” He said incredulously, standing up before he’d even realized what he was doing; Zell spun around at the sound of his voice, toppling in surprise back down the few steps he’d managed to ascend.

“Speak a’ the fuckin’ devil!” Zell yelled, his expression gathering storm clouds as he recognized Seifer strolling leisurely toward him. He looked utterly wasted, the gunblader decided with a smirk, clutching the railing with a white-knuckled grip just to keep upright, his hair and clothes in total disarray, heavy-lidded blue eyes glaring up at Seifer with nothing less than pure loathing reflected in their glassy depths. “I was jes’ thinking about you!”

“Dare I wonder why?” Seifer replied coolly, glancing around just to double-check that no guards or students were loitering around the area, and he barely managed to dodge the punch that Zell threw at him the next moment; slow and sluggish though the other man was in his drunkenness, he was still a force to be reckoned with, and Seifer wasn’t all that sure he wanted to test whether or not he could take drunk Zell in a physical fight. He backed a few paces away, crouching a dozen or so steps above Zell, who was venturing to climb the stairs again now that his immediate target had moved out of range, muttering something that sounded very much like, “I fuckin’ hate you, fuckin’ _hate_ you,” over and over under his breath. Seifer might have found the sight pathetic, if he hadn’t been so amused by the martial artist’s plight.

“I’d give up if I were you,” he suggested after Zell’s third failed attempt to make it to the top of the steps; he seemed to take Seifer’s advice, and sat down heavily, leaning against the rail for support. He shot a bleary glare over at Seifer, but he said nothing, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The other man reclined where he sat a few steps up, still glancing over his shoulder from time to time to make sure they wouldn’t be happened upon by any of the Garden faculty members, but enjoying the situation too much to really be worried about what might happen if they were. The tables had certainly turned now, hadn’t they?

“So what are you doing out here?” he asked calmly.

“What are _you_ doin’ here?” was Zell’s retort as he half-turned to shoot a menacing glare up at his nemesis.

“Watching you make an ass out of yourself, and I’ve gotta say, it’s a lot of fucking fun.”

“This is all your fuckin’ fault, Almasy!” Zell shouted suddenly, and Seifer bolted down the stairs, clapping a hand over his mouth before he could raise any unwanted attention to the two of them. Zell was shocked into complete silence by this abrupt action, swatting wildly at Seifer’s hand in an attempt to remove it from his face; fortunately he managed to keep quiet even after he was released. Seifer knelt next to him and tried to pull him to his feet, with no assistance from the martial artist himself, who seemed determined to refuse any help and was only gradually making his way into a standing position, swaying slightly in place.

“What th’fuck do you _want_ , Seifer?” he slurred angrily, but at least quietly, sending another halfhearted swing Seifer’s way and almost toppling over from his own momentum. The gunblader growled under his breath, grabbing Zell’s arm to steady him, but he wasn’t particularly angry; Zell drunk was too funny for him to be anything more than marginally annoyed.

“Right now I’d really like to get the hell out of here without rousting the whole Garden faculty, so why don’t you shut your big fucking mouth and concentrate on getting up the goddamn stairs?” he murmured, hauling the inebriated other man up the steps one at a time.

“I hate goddamn stairs,” Zell grunted.

“I’m sure the feeling’s mutual.”

“This is all _your_ damn fault, y’know,” he went on drowsily, jabbing Seifer in the shoulder to emphasize exactly whom he was talking about. He swayed back and forth but they managed to ascend the stairs without incident; Zell stopped for a moment at the top to regain his balance, leaning heavily on the taller man’s shoulder. “Fuck, I hate you.”

“You’ve said that already,” Seifer said.

“It’s all your fault.”

“You’ve said that, too,” the gunblader sighed, heaving Zell upright again and pulling him onward through the main entrance and down the corridor. He seemed to be faring slightly better now, and shuffled along on his own, leading the way although he didn’t appear to have a very good idea of where he was going. Several times Seifer had to steer him back on the right path before he wandered off into the parking lot or tumbled over the partition into the still pools of water twinkling below them in the dim fluorescent light. They did, however, eventually reach the dormitories (and without encountering a soul, Seifer mused briefly; he sure was lucky today,) and this was where Zell collapsed again, slumping down in the corner behind a pillar with a rattling sigh, looking as though he might be sick - not that Seifer would be at all surprised if he were.

“Why the fuck’re you even helping me, anyway?” he growled accusingly, as if assistance was the very last thing in the world he wanted, and Seifer was sorely tempted to just leave him where he lay if he was going to be so ungrateful. _It’s not like I’m doing this for your sake_ , he thought to himself, but to tell Zell that would raise suspicions over his motives that he really didn’t want to deal with right now, when there was still a rather large chance that they could be stumbled upon by security or some other Garden faculty member, or even a student who happened to be out of bed or heard the noise they were making and came to investigate. No, better to try and get Zell back to his dorm first and deal with the questions later - there were sure to be some once the other man regained control of his senses.

“Because,” he started tersely, grabbing Zell by the elbow and yanking him back to his feet, draping the other’s arm over his shoulders to keep him steady, “you may not have a curfew, but I do, and if you hadn’t noticed, I happen to be breaking it right now. And you’re making a whole hell of a lot of noise, so I’d like to get someplace safe before anyone hears it and finds us out here. Is that quite alright with you?”

“No!” Zell slurred, struggling wearily as the gunblader tried to get him walking again. “I got another question!”

“Can you at least walk and talk at the same time? Or are you incapable of multitasking?”

“Fuck you!” Zell said, rather too loudly in Seifer’s opinion, and swung another easily-dodged fist at him, but refused to move from his spot. “What the fuck are you planning, and… and… why can’t you jes’ leave me the fuck alone?”

Seifer didn’t think it would be worth the argument to point out to the other that he had asked two questions, and he stepped away from Zell, folding his arms over his chest with a frustrated sigh. This was certainly going to be much more difficult than he had anticipated - but then, when had anything dealing with the martial artist ever been easy? “I could just leave you out here to stew in the corridor, if you want. It’ll make a good show in the morning when security comes to haul your drunk, idiot self down to the council for a hearing.”

“She was gorgeous, y’know,” Zell said next, picking up a new topic as if they hadn’t just been discussing something completely unrelated, and throwing his arm out dramatically to emphasize the point he hadn’t gotten to yet. “Well,” he continued angrily, “Not _gorgeous_ , but she was pretty. But I… man, I couldn’t do it. You just… ugh.”

“What the hell are you babbling about now, Dincht?”

“I just couldn’t do it,” the other man mumbled, and then was silent for a moment. “She had some fucking nice tits, you know.”

“That’s why you couldn’t do it?” Seifer snarled, growing increasingly impatient with Zell’s drunken antics - whatever the fuck he was talking about, Seifer was quite sure he didn’t give a damn. The martial artist was still glowering at him with glassy eyes, his hands balled into tight fists and half-cocked in front of him; the boy was clearly spoiling for a fight, and Seifer was very determined not to give him one - not just yet. He took a few steps back to give Zell some space, waiting - hoping - that he would cool down and let the older SeeD guide him back to his dorm; a good deal of Seifer’s plan depended on just that.

“She looked just like you,” was the next thing Zell said, which made absolutely no sense to Seifer, not that anything the instructor had said in the past few minutes really did. He sighed again, too annoyed with the fact that Zell couldn’t seem to grasp a hold of what he wanted to talk about to be curious about what the other man was thinking about. Then again, maybe he was always like this, drunk or not - Seifer never really bothered to pay attention to anything he said, usually very focused on tuning him out, nearly always a futile endeavor.

“Sorry, Dincht, you lost me between ‘she had nice tits’ and ‘she looked just like you’,” He replied, taking Zell by the wrist and heaving him back onto his feet - he appeared to be sobering up a little, which might or might not be a good thing; Seifer couldn’t deny that drunk Zell had entertainment appeal, but the sooner he came to his senses, the sooner he was going to realize that Seifer helping him was kind of highly suspicious. Not that Seifer had any idea, really, why he was doing this. He pulled the martial artist down the hall once more, Zell now subdued and quiet - thankfully - following obediently like a puppy on a lead.

“Where we goin’?” Zell murmured after a minute, hobbling along steadily as Seifer shepherded him through the winding hallways into the instructors’ wing of the dorms.

“Taking you home, Dincht.”

“Huh… wh… what?” 

“ _Home,_ idiot. Your room. You obviously aren't going to make it there by yourself,” Seifer grumbled under his breath.

“Why?” Zell asked, sounding surprised, as though the idea of going to bed and sleeping this off had never before crossed his mind. “I don’t… understand?”

“Never you mind why,” was Seifer’s answer, although in honesty, he couldn’t help wondering the very same thing himself…


End file.
